


Memories of Godly Selfishness

by Keyseeker



Series: MoGS fics [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Apollo watches how he acted in blood of olympus and singer of apollo, Canon Compliant, Gen, He's not happy with what he sees, Neither is Meg, Sorta a reading the books situation, Through the Burning Maze, but not really since it's in flashback
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2019-10-19 14:05:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 46,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17602754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keyseeker/pseuds/Keyseeker
Summary: Chapter 1: Apollo and Meg watch Apollo's interactions with the demigods (and Grover) in Blood of Olympus and the Singer of Apollo. They don't like what they see.Chapter 2: Apollo, Meg, and Percy watch the fight with Otis and Ephialtes in Mark of Athena. Apollo gains new perspective on gods’ relationships with demigods.Chapter 3: Apollo, Meg, and Annabeth watch the final battle against Kronos and the aftermath, with a surprise guest later on.Chapter 4: Apollo and Meg watch “Welcome to Camp Half-Blood”. Apollo gives a long over-due apology.Chapter 5: Side Story - Satyr School: Apollo teaches some young satyrs.Chapter 6: Apollo, Meg, Thalia, and Will watch Thalia's and Luke's encounter with a certain son of Apollo.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I really wanted to see someone write out Meg's and Apollo's reactions to Apollo's actions in Blood of Olympus and Singer of Apollo. Then I remembered "Oh wait, I'm a fanfic writer, I can just write it myself."
> 
> The context here is that Apollo manages to accidentally drag Meg into his flashbacks, the same way Hazel took Leo and Frank along on some of her flashbacks. So they’re viewing these memories from a third-person perspective.

Meg and I stood in the middle of an amphitheater. Scraggly bushes populated the area beyond the stone of the amphitheater. It all seemed very familiar…

Before I was able to figure out why (curse my tiny mortal memory) I heard the  _twang_  of a ukulele’s string being plucked. Instinctively I turned around. As a god of music, I naturally grew curious whenever I heard music, plus the months I’d spent as a mortal had honed my sound identifying and threat assessment abilities… which was a nice way of saying that I listened fearfully for any sound I didn’t know the origin of and looked for hiding spots if I thought it was a monster… or worse.

My mind came to a screeching halt. I was looking at a highly attractive young man, roughly seventeen years old, with curly blond hair and a nice tan, mournfully plucking away at a ukulele. I was looking at  _myself_. Me, before I’d lost my divinity, before I’d met Meg, before my children were kidnapped, before I dragged Meg out of the Cave of Trophonious, before Crest and Jason died, before any of the events that had radically altered how I behaved and my perception of the world.

That still didn’t tell me WHEN I was, though. My memory was faulty at the best of times, and trying to figure out what was going on just based on me sadly playing a ukulele by myself wasn’t much of a clue.

Wait… by myself?

I broke my gaze from my glorious divine self (oh, how I missed my true appearance), and cast my gaze from side to side. My eyes locked onto the form of a young teenage girl with long dark hair, whittling away on a piece of wood, forming it into a bow.

_Artemis_.

Before I could form another thought, I was scrambling across the floor to get to her.

“Sister!” I yelled as I ran at her, my arms open, desperately wanting, NEEDING to see her face and to feel her embrace again. 

I passed right through her as if I wasn’t even there.

Reality reasserted itself. This was a memory. I couldn’t interact with anyone here. It only existed in my mind.

Meg caught up with me and gently took my hand. I turned to her. That’s right. Meg was real. She was here. 

“You’ll see her again,” Meg reassured me. I wanted to believe her, but after everything I’d been through, I wasn’t so sure. I settled for studying her face, trying to memorize every detail, the color of her eyes, the expression on her face as she vented her frustration through her crafting. I wanted to hang onto my memories of my sister this time. I had to at least try. 

As I was staring at my sister, I heard a yell from the edges of the amphitheater, “Don’t shoot!” 

Startled, I looked up. Descending the stairs to the center stage were Leo, Frank, and Hazel.

Ah. That narrowed things down a bit. I remembered this, but vaguely. Leo had asked me for advice on his plan to defeat Gaea and for help with the Physician’s Cure. In exchange he had traded me the Valdezinator, that wonderful musical instrument of his. Sadly I couldn’t remember much beyond those facts. The memory itself was blurry and hard to get ahold of. I decided to give up on forcing myself to remember and just watch it instead.

As the demigods reached the front row where Artemis sat, she muttered, “There you are. We were beginning to wonder.”

“So you were expecting us, then,” Leo replied. “I can tell, because you’re so excited.”

“We were expecting to be found, bothered, and tormented,” my godly self interjected melodramatically, still plucking on his ukulele’s strings, “We didn’t know by whom. Can you not leave us in our misery?”

Beside me, Meg snorted and rolled her eyes. I had a feeling she was unimpressed with my past self. I didn’t blame her. This all seemed very silly and kinda embarrassing now. The demigods had had a FAR worse time than I had. It was ridiculous for me to be throwing a pity party for myself while they were risking their lives on a quest to save both camps and the gods, all with very little help from the gods they were protecting.

At least I’d been able to help here. I remembered that much. I had helped Leo survive. I had done SOMETHING right during all of this at least. 

“You know they can’t, brother,” Artemis chided. “They require our help with their quest, even if the odds are hopeless.”

Meg jolted, eyes widening in realization. “That’s YOU?!” she exclaimed in disbelief, gesturing to my godly self.

Ah. Meg had never seen me as a god. She wouldn’t know the kinds of forms my divine self preferred. I nodded, putting my fingers to my lips in an attempt to quiet her. I was pretty sure there hadn’t been long pauses in this conversation for commentary by my future self and a young girl to talk during, and I doubted that I could rewind this memory. I didn’t want to miss any of this. We’d have to talk when there WAS a break in the conversation… assuming we had one before the memory ended.

“You two are full of good cheer,” Leo said. “Why are you hiding out here anyway? Shouldn’t you be… I dunno, fighting giants or something?”

I rolled my eyes. I WISHED. If Artemis and I had had the ability, we would’ve rained vengeance down on Orion for harming her Hunters. A memory resurfaced of myself holding Artemis as she cried, feeling the life drain from her friends’ bodies, unable to do anything to help them. I pushed it away before it could overwhelm me. I had my hands full with THIS memory, I didn’t want to get dragged into a different memory and miss this one.

Artemis glared at Leo. I began to feel a little nervous. I didn’t REMEMBER Artemis turning him into a woodland creature, but my memory was pretty faulty at the moment…

“Delos is our birthplace,” my sister said. “Here, we are unaffected by the Greek-Roman schism. Believe me, Leo Valdez, if I could, I would be with my Hunters, facing our old enemy Orion. Unfortunately, if I stepped off this island, I would become incapacitated with pain. All I can do is watch helplessly as Orion slaughters my followers. Many gave their lives to protect your friends and that accursed Athena statue.”

Meg turned to me, her brow furrowing, mouthing ‘Greek-Roman schism?’. I mouthed back, ‘Later’. 

Hazel emitted a choking sound. “You mean Nico? Is he alright?”

I felt terrible seeing her like that. Knowing your sibling is in danger, and unable to do anything to help them… I know how that felt.

“ _All right?_ ” my former self sobbed out. “None of us are alright, girl! Gaea is rising!”

I almost laughed. I sounded so ridiculous and pathetic. There I was, all my divine power intact, an Olympian! …and yet I was losing my head more than the oh-so-squishy, oh-so-killable demigods, who had actually been forced to face Gaea’s minions. I’d just sat on Delos and sulked.

Artemis evidently agreed with my current self. She glared at my past self. “Hazel Lavesque, your brother is still alive. He is a brave fighter, like you. I wish I could say the same of  _my_  brother.”

“You wrong me!” my godly self wailed. “I was misled by Gaea and that horrible Roman child!”

I wasn’t sure how the demigods resisted busting out laughing at that exclamation. I sounded like a toddler that thought that the entire world had betrayed him because his mother wouldn’t push him on the swing. 

Somehow they kept their self-control. Frank cleared his throat. “Uh, Lord Apollo, you mean Octavian?”

“Do not speak his name!” my former self exclaimed as he strummed another note on his ukulele. “Oh, Frank Zhang, if only you were my child.” I silently agreed. I’d gotten to know Frank better over the course of my quest. I would’ve been honored to have him as my son. “I heard your prayers, you know, all those weeks you wanted to be claimed.But alas! Mars gets all the good ones. I get…  _that creature_  as my descendant. He filled my head with compliments. He told me of the great temples he would build in my honor.”

My sister snorted. “You are easily flattered, brother.”

“Because I have so many amazing qualities to praise!” I felt my face twist in disgust. Yes, AMAZING qualities. Like my cowardice, my ignorance, my willingness to watch children die and treat it as ENTERTAINMENT… and my inability to save those children, even when I was trying my hardest. Death followed in my wake.

Meg looked over at me, her face scrunched up in a concerned expression. I smoothed out my expression as best I could. I didn’t want to worry her. 

My past self continued talking while this was going on, “Octavian said he wanted to make the Romans strong. I said fine! I gave him my blessing.”

I looked down for a moment. Octavian and Commodus. I had given both my blessing. Both had gone crazy and died, one by my own hand. I had a terrible track record with my blessings.

“As I recall,” said Artemis, “he also promised to make you the most important god of the legion, above even Zeus.”

My eyes nearly rolled back in my head. Oh yeah, THAT was one of the things he promised me. How was I so much of an idiot that I didn’t realize that Zeus would take offense at that? He couldn’t stand ANY possible threat to his power, he’d never have allowed for my power to grow and his own to diminish that much, not while he had a way to stop it.

“Well, who was I to argue with an offer like that? Does Zeus have a perfect tan? Can  _he_ play the ukulele? I think not!” 

I buried my face in my hands. Meg busted out laughing. I’d undergone a LOT of humiliation throughout my time as a mortal. It seemed ironic that the most embarrassing thing I’d been through so far was watching what I said and did when I was a god.

My former self continued, “But I never thought Octavian would start a war! Gaea must have been clouding my thoughts, whispering in my ear.”

Truthfully, I couldn’t remember now WHAT I thought Octavian would do. It never crossed my mind that my children would be in danger, but that may have simply been because I was in Roman form at the time, so my Greek children weren’t at the forefront of my thoughts.

“So fix it,” Leo said. “Tell Octavian to stand down. Or, you know, shoot him with one of your arrows. That would be fine too.”

I snorted. As if my life was ever  _that_  easy.

My past self quickly disabused Leo of that notion. “I cannot!” he cried. “Look!” He turned his ukulele into a bow. I watched enviously. Oh how I missed being able to do that, it meant I didn’t have to encumber myself. Alas, I was mortal now, and that was simply one of the many inconveniences I had to put up with.

He summoned a golden arrow (another ability I wish I still had, running out of ammunition was always a pain. And terrifying. Mostly terrifying) nocked it, and let it fly. It evaporated at Delos’s boundary.

“To shoot my bow, I would have to step off Delos. Then I would be incapacitated, or Zeus would strike me down. Father never liked me. He hasn’t trusted me for millennia!”

_Trust._

I bitterly wished that I could  _trust_  Zeus not to torture me when I displeased him, . At the very least, I wish I could  _trust_  him to set his priorities straight. He might have decided that this was a good and just punishment for me, turning me mortal and making me go on a quest in order to regain his favor. Fine. But preventing other gods from helping was causing more mortals to die in the Triumvirate’s attacks than was necessary. But he didn’t care. He had faith that whatever happened, it wouldn’t get so far that it threatened himself directly, nor his power. Loss of life was of little concern to him.

“Well,” my sister responded, “to be fair, there was that time you conspired with Hera to overthrow him.”

“That was a misunderstanding!”

It hadn’t been a misunderstanding. I was bitter over being shocked for nth time that year, and when I saw a chance to stop from being shocked again, I took it. I should’ve known better than to side with Hera though. Honestly, she had tortured my mother, what was I THINKING siding with her?

“And you killed some of Zeus’s Cyclopes.”

“I had a good reason for that!”

I looked down at my shoes, not wanting to meet Artemis’s eyes, even though she couldn’t see this version of me.  I hadn’t had a good reason. I’d just told myself I did. I needed someone to blame, someone to take my anger out on who wouldn’t destroy me if I tried, and they were convenient. I was willing to admit this to myself now, though I’d always known it. Meeting Tyson had made me regret taking my anger out on those Cyclopes. Those gentle, but still somewhat bitter eyes as he asked me if I would kill HIM if Zeus or another god used one of the weapons he made to do something cruel, something Tyson had no knowledge of and couldn’t stop even if he did… it filled me with shame. 

I was still talking. At this point I wished he’d just shut up. He reminded me of everything I hate about how I used to act.

“At any rate, now Zeus blames me for  _everything_  - Octavian’s schemes, the fall of Delphi-”

“Wait,” Hazel inquired, forming the gesture for ‘time-out’. “The fall of Delphi?”

I groaned. Did we REALLY have to go over this? It had been my reality for the past few months, I didn’t need a recap.

Hazel needed to be informed, however. My former self sated her curiosity. “When the schism began between Greek and Roman, while I struggled with confusion, Gaea took advantage! She raised my old enemy Python, the great serpent, to repossess the Delphic Oracle. That horrible creature is now coiled in the ancient caverns, blocking the magic of prophecy. I am stuck here, so I can’t even fight him.”

I shuddered. I still wasn’t sure how I could defeat Python like this. The thought of facing him again sent my knees knocking, and I had to fight to stay upright. Meg took my hand, wordlessly showing her support. I calmed down. Maybe I was mortal this time, that was true. But this time, I wasn’t alone. We would defeat Python together.

“Bummer,” Leo said. He didn’t look very bummed. I couldn’t really blame him. It was awful that the power of prophecy had gone out, but I knew first-hand how taxing it could be to be the subject of a prophecy.

“Bummer indeed!” My godly version cried. “Zeus was already angry with me for appointing that new girl, Rachel Dare, as my Oracle. Zeus seems to think I hastened the war with Gaea by doing so, since Rachel issued the Prophecy of Seven as soon as I blessed her. But prophecy doesn’t work that way! Father just needed someone to blame. So of course he picked the handsomest, most talented, hopelessly awesome god.”

Anger and resentment nipped at my core. Zeus KNEW Rachel issuing that prophecy hadn’t caused it to arrive sooner. But he needed an excuse, ANY excuse, to blame someone, ANYONE else. Just so long as he wasn’t to blame.

While I was simmering about Zeus’s injustice, Meg burst out laughing again, which quickly extinguished my anger. Artemis faked some gagging noises at the same time. I started chuckling as well. My vanity HAD been pretty hilarious at times. Meg and I were laughing so hard, I nearly missed the next part of the conversation.

“Oh, stop it, sister! You’re in trouble too!”

“Only because I stayed in touch with my Hunters against Zeus’s wishes,” my sister said. “But I can always charm Father into forgiving me. He’s never been able to stay mad at me. it’s  _you_  I’m worried about.”

“I’m worried about me too!” my past self agreed. “We have to do something. We can’t kill Octavian. Hmm. Perhaps we should kill  _these_  demigods.”

The laughter died in my throat. I must have heard wrong. That couldn’t be right. I may have been an idiot in the past, I may have been negligent, and perhaps even callous, but there was  _no way_  I had seriously suggested murdering the heroes of the prophecy - the young demigods who would become my  _friends_  - simply because I felt the need to do something. My first instinct while I was panicking couldn’t have been to murder some innocent demigods who were trying to help rectify the situation, just because I couldn’t murder some other person. I HAD to have that wrong. I HAD to.

I felt Meg turn rigid next to me, immediately falling silent. It was the same way she behaved when reminded of The Beast.

Leo dashed my desperate hope, my denial. “Whoa there, Music Man. We’re on your side, remember? Why would you kill us?” A dash of fear colored Leo’s face as he said all this. I felt my stomach twist. He had really thought there was a chance, however small, that I would actually kill him. And the worst part was, I was pretty sure he was right.

“It might make me feel better!” my stupid, STUPID past self proclaimed. “I have to do something!”

Make me feel better… really? Killing children for no reason might make me feel better? My hand clenched, my knuckles turning white. I wished I had something to smash, but everything here was an illusion, simply a memory.

Leo kept things moving along. “Or you could help us. See, we’ve got this plan…” I calmed down slightly, listening to Leo’s plan. It had worked, and I had helped. I had been stupid in the past, but I HAD still helped. That counted for SOMETHING, right? 

I may not have been able to vent, but my past self had no such problem. He stood up. “The physician’s cure?” He smashed his ukulele on the ground. “That’s your plan?”

Meg jumped slightly at my former self’s show of violence. Her expression closed off, as if she was trying to shut out the outside world. I wanted to comfort her, to explain, but we needed to get to a lull in the conversation first. I hoped one arrived soon. 

Leo held his hands up, attempting to calm down my former self. “Hey, um, usually I’m all for smashing ukuleles, but-”

“I cannot help you!” My godly self cried. “Yes you can,” I muttered quietly to myself. “You’re just afraid too.” 

I at least understood why I had been afraid. It’s not JUST that I was afraid of Zeus hurting me. I still remembered what happened the last time the cure was used, how Zeus had struck down my favorite son. I could take Zeus’s wrath. My loved ones couldn’t. 

My former self continued his wailing, “If I told you the secret of the physician’s cure, Zeus would  _never_  forgive me!”

I blinked. Actually, neither Zeus nor anyone else had seemed to care too much. I guess Leo got one Get-Out-Of-Death-Free card. Too bad he was the only one, and only once. I was certain that if he died again, he would  _stay_  dead.

Leo attempted to persuade him. “You’re already in trouble. How could it get worse?”

I gaped a little at that. Had Leo _seriously_  tried that line of reasoning? ‘How could it get worse?’ What had he been  _thinking?_

My past self must’ve agreed with me. He shot Leo a withering glare. “If you knew what my father was capable of, mortal, you would not ask. It would be simpler if I just smote you all. That might please Zeus-”

I just groaned and buried my face in my hands again. As soon as I got back to reality I was gonna bang my head on the nearest wall. We were back to this again? Seriously? Why would murdering these demigods please Zeus? He didn’t generally take kindly to people murdering his-

My blood turned to ice. _I had contemplated killing Jason_. Even for a moment, I had thought about it, seriously considered going through with it. I don’t think it would have actually come to that, but the fact that it had even been a  _possibility_ in my mind…?

Thankfully my sister, my dear, sweet, sensible sister was there. “Brother…” she said warningly, glaring. The two locked eyes, commencing a mental argument. Artemis won, as usual. My past self sighed and kicked the broken remnants of his ukulele across the stage, a display of his childishness.

My sister stood up. “Hazel Lavesque, Frank Zhang, come with me. There are things you should know about the Twelfth Legion. As for you, Leo Valdez, Apollo will hear you out. See if you can strike a deal. My brother always like a good bargain.”

Frank and Hazel glanced back at Leo as they left, looking worried. A weight dropped into my stomach. They thought he was in danger too. In danger from ME.

I stared longingly at my sister as she left. I’d much rather be with her than with my past self. Sadly, I could not venture beyond the constraints of my memory.

A moment later my godly self turned to Leo, his arms folded, eyes glowing. “Well, Leo Valdez? Let us bargain, then. What can you offer that would convince me to to help you rather than kill you?”

_Stop saying that_ , I silently begged. _I GET it, I was a childish, murderous asshole. You don’t need to continue auditioning for the role, you already won an award for the part._

Fingers twitching, Leo talked with my former self. “A bargain. Yes. Absolutely.”

I watched as Leo started assembling that beautiful musical instrument of his, his hands working feverishly as he talked. He was barely even LOOKING at what he was doing. All the while, he continued reasoning with my past self. “So the thing is, Zeus is already pretty P.O.’ed at you, right? If you help us defeat Gaea, you could make it up to him.”

Honestly I doubted that even that would have been enough to quell Zeus’s wrath, but it was a far better plan than ‘murder people’. Speaking of which…

My godly self wrinkled his nose. I guess he really preferred the murder plan over the help-save-the-world plan. “I suppose that’s possible. But it would be easier to smite you.”

Leo wasn’t giving up THAT easily. “What kind of ballad would  _that_  make? You’re the god of music, right? Would you listen to a song called ‘Apollo Smites a Runty Little Demigod’? I wouldn’t. But ‘Apollo Defeats the Earth Mother and Saves the Freaking Universe’… that sounds like a Billboard chart-topper!”

At that moment, I was thinking of composing a song titled ‘Apollo is a Stupid Vain Idiot’. I’d have  _plenty_  of material to draw from for the lyrics.

At least that argument seemed persuasive. When in doubt, flatter. “What do you want exactly? And what do I get out of it?”

_A chance to help a demigod survive,_  I added silently in my head.

Leo launched into his description of his plan for defeating Gaea. Listening to him, I wasn’t sure how I hadn’t realized his true intentions back then. It was obvious he was planning on implementing it himself. I suppose I just didn’t care much about what he was going to do. It didn’t concern ME, after all. I kept my eyes focused on Leo’s hands, at the brilliant device he was constructing. He seemed to be on auto-pilot.

Finally even my former self noticed that Leo was doing more than just keeping his hands busy. Looking at the strings and levers, I could almost hear the * _click_ * as he realized that what Leo had assembled looked an awful lot like a musical instrument… “What is that you have made?”

Leo stared down at his contraption, as if he’d never seen it before. He looked puzzled, almost as if…

And then I got it.

I gaped at Leo in disbelief. Had he seriously…?

Leo seemed to stall a little. “Oh, this…? Um, well, this is quite simply the most amazing instrument ever!”

He had. He seriously had. He’d invented a musical instrument from scratch in the five minutes he was talking to me, in order to use as a bargaining chip to get me to help him with the physician’s cure and not kill him. And he hadn’t even MEANT to do it. I would have to congratulate Leo on pulling off that feat when we got back to reality… and lecture him about how reckless he’d been, going into this without a plan. 

Also, I should probably check Leo’s bloodline. I wondered whether he was one of Hermes’ Legacies…

“How does it work?” my past self inquired. 

Leo nervously looked down at his invention, inspecting it. Being familiar with Leo’s expressions and mannerisms, I was pretty sure that he didn’t even KNOW how it worked, and simply made a good guess based on how it was constructed.

Wait. If Leo didn’t even know how to play the Valdezinator at first, I doubted he’d put in some secret scales. He’d tricked me! Oh, I was SO getting him back for that.

Leo’s hands flew over the machine, tweaking a lever here, turning a gear there. The most wonderful melody sprang from the machine, a somewhat sad, longing song.  _Home_. The song was about homesickness, I could tell now. But for Leo, there was more to it.   

In his expression, I saw the longing of a lover long separated, much like Odysseus’s longing for home.

Odysseus. Ogygia. That song was for Calypso. Yet he had played it for me, to obtain my help. I felt strangely honored that he would share such a private melody with me.

When he had finished, there wasn’t a dry face around. Even Meg was enraptured my the music, tears flowing down her face. I imagine that she knew something about missing home from those long years after she was taken from her childhood home, from her father, and forced to work for Nero.

My godly self was just as transfixed by the instrument as I was. “I must have it. What is it called? What do you want for it?”

Leo hugged the instrument to himself at those words for a few seconds. Then a look of resignation, and a moment later, determination passed over him. 

He hadn’t wanted to part with the machine. It must’ve been one of the few things that had reminded him of his girlfriend, but he had done it so that he could get what he needed, and return to her. I decided that when I had obtained the instrument again, I’d let Leo borrow it on occasion. He’d invented it, it was only right.

Leo bluffed for all he was worth… though considering that the instrument lived up to his praise, perhaps it was less a “bluff”, and more just ‘quickly pulling a sales pitch out of nowhere based on things he’s figured out in the last ten seconds and hopes are actually correct.’  “This is the Valdezinator, of course! It works by, um, translating your feeling into music as you manipulate the gears. It’s really meant for me, a child of Hephaestus, to use, though. I don’t know if you could-”

Ah, a CHALLENGE. He knew me well. Seriously, even though he had just met me, he played me like a fiddle.

“I am the god of music! I can certainly master the Valdezinator. I must! It is my duty!”

Oh how I hoped I’d actually be able to do that. I had only just begun unlocking that marvelous instrument’s secrets when Artemis and I had felt our Greek and Roman halves unite and had promptly raced off to help fight the Giants.

“So let’s wheel and deal, Music Man. I give you this; you give me the physician’s cure.”

“Oh… Well, I don’t actually have the physician’s cure.”

“I thought you were the god of medicine.”

I rolled my eyes. Being the god of something didn’t mean I knew everything about it, or that I was best at every aspect of it. When would mortals learn that? Then again, us gods tended to get pretty upset if they suggested such a thing, so perhaps it wasn’t too surprising that they assumed we had more power and expertise over our domains than we actually did.

My godly self explained, “Yes, but I’m the god of  _many_  things! Poetry, music, the Delphic Oracle-” here he let out a large sob. “Sorry. I’m fine, I’m fine. As I was saying, I have many spheres of influence. Then, of course, I have the who ‘sun god’ gig, which I inherited from Helios. The point is, I’m rather like a general practitioner. For the physician’s cure, you need a specialist - the only one who has ever cured death: My son Asclepius, the god of healers.”

Ah, Asclepius. I’d have to see if I could visit him. It’d been awhile. I wondered whether Zeus would allow Asclepius to help me, or if he had forbidden Asclepius as well as Artemis from giving me assistance.

Leo clearly wasn’t going to give up  _that_ easily. He played a few more notes, tempting my godly self even more. “That’s a shame, Apollo. I was hoping we could make a deal.”

My former self was putty in Leo’s hands at that point. I was a sucker for musical instruments. “Stop! It’s too beautiful! I’ll give you directions to Asclepius. He’s really very close!”

“How do we know he’ll help us? We’ve only got two days until Gaea wakes.”

“He’ll help! My son is very helpful. Just plead with him in my name.You’ll find him at his old temple in Epidaurus.”

Come to think of it, I’d have to ask Leo how that visit had gone. Asclepius didn’t get a lot of visitors, what with his guards preventing most visitors, so I’d imagine he was pretty pleased to have some new company.

“What’s the catch?”

“Ah… well, nothing. Except, of course, he’s guarded.”

“Guarded by what?”

“I don’t know!”

I didn’t know? Had it really been so long? When was the last time I even tried to check on him? A decade ago? A century? I resolved to visit him as soon as was feasible. I’d been neglecting so many of my family members…

“I only know Zeus is keeping Asclepius under guard so he doesn’t go running around the world resurrecting people. The first time Asclepius raised the dead… well, he caused quite an uproar. It’s a long story. But I’m  _sure_  you can convince him to help.”

‘Quite an uproar’. Well that was an understatement. Zeus killed Asclepius, I killed some Cyclopes, Zeus made me mortal, and made Asclepius a god.

“This isn’t sounding like much of a deal.” Well sorry Leo, but I honestly COULDN’T help more than that. Well, except for… “What about the last ingredient- the curse of Delos. What is it?”

My godly self stared entranced at the Valdezinator. Leo started looking concerned. I think he may have thought I would just take the thing… which I wouldn’t have. Stealing instruments from their inventor would only discourage others from innovating in the future. I suppose Leo didn’t know that though. I’d certainly given him no reason to believe that I was fair or reasonable. 

“I can give the last ingredient to you. Then you’ll have everything Asclepius needs to brew the potion.”

Leo wheedled some more, playing the instrument a little to make sure I was maximally tempted. “I dunno. Trading this beautiful Valdezinator for some Delos curse-”

It worked.

“It’s not actually a curse! Look…” my past self plucked a flower. “ _This_  is the curse of Delos.”

“A cursed daisy?”

Well, in a manner of speaking…

My past self sighed. “That’s just a nickname. When my mother, Leto, was ready to give birth to Artemis and me, Hera was angry, because Zeus had cheated on her again. So she went around to every single landmass on earth. She made the nature spirits in each place promise to turn my mother away so she couldn’t give birth anywhere.”

Honestly, didn’t Hera have anything  _better_  to do with her time? 

“Sounds like something Hera would do.”

“I know, right? Anyway, Hera exacted promises from every land that was rooted on the earth- but  _not_  from Delos, because back then Delos was a floating island. The nature spirits of Delos welcomed my mother. She gave birth to my sister and me, and the island was so happy to be our new sacred home it covered itself in these little yellow flowers. The flowers are a blessing, because we’re awesome. But they also symbolize a curse, because once we were born, Delos got rooted in place and wasn’t able to drift around the sea anymore. That’s why yellow daisies are called the curse of Delos.”

Honestly I’d prefer for them to be called ‘the blessing of Delos’. It sounded better to me. Alas, ‘the curse of Delos’ had stuck somehow.

“So I could have just picked the daisy myself and walked away.”

“No, no! Not for the potion you have in mind. The flower would have to be picked by either my sister or me. So what do you say, demigod? Directions to Asclepius and your last magical ingredient in exchange for that new musical instrument- do we have a deal?”

Leo sounded slightly reluctant, but he want through with it,“You drive a hard bargain, Music Man.”

“Excellent!”

 The items exchanged hands. I let out a breath and smiled. I’d helped Leo survive. I may have needed to be bribed, but I had still helped to save my friend.

My godly self experimented with the Valdezinator. It made a strange revving noise. I remembered trying to learn how to play it. I don’t know how Leo picked it up so easily. Even as a god, it took me a while to figure out even the basics of how to play it. “Hmm… perhaps it’ll take some practice, but I’ll get it! Now let us find your friends. The sooner you leave the better!”

The world blurred around Meg and I. I instinctively moved closer to her. Meg stayed stock still, still closed off.

I wanted to ask her what was wrong, but then the world resolved. 

We were in the middle of a lush green park, satyrs and nymphs scampering around, having fun. Looking around, I spotted Percy and Grover talking close behind me, Juniper not far from them.

Meg perked up slightly, watching the scene with interest. 

The scene didn’t remain that peaceful for long. 

The sunlight increased in intensity, becoming brighter and brighter. Steam emitted from the grass, as if it was boiling, though I saw no scorch marks. When the steam cleared, there I was, smiling like I was about to present the most coveted prize in the world.

Grover muttered “Oh no.. This can’t be good.”, looking at me with dread. My face fell. The fact that I could hear that now, in this memory, meant I heard it then too and just chose to ignore it. 

I struggled, trying to remember what had happened here. Percy and Grover had helped me retrieve something I was missing, I remembered that much. I remembered them being delighted to help me however, so I was afraid that I might have revised my memories after the fact. They certainly didn’t look pleased at the moment.

“Percy Jackson!” My godly self bellowed. “And, um, your goat friend-”

“His name is Grover,” Percy cut in. “And we’re kind of off-duty, Lord Apollo. It’s Grover’s birthday.”

It had been Grover’s birthday? I didn’t remember that at all. Which meant… I’d ruined Grover’s birthday, hadn’t I. My shoulders slumped. I was amazed Grover wasn’t more irritated with me when Meg summoned him in Indiana, if this was the most significant interaction I’d had with him.

“Happy birthday!” My past self congratulated. “I’m so glad you’re taking the day off. That means you two have time to help me with a little problem!”

Clearly I hadn’t known what ‘day off’ meant- or more accurately, I hadn’t cared.

My past self led Percy and Grover away from the rest of the group. I watched as Juniper clung to Grover, as if afraid she’d never see him again. It reminded me of how Frank and Hazel looked when they had left Leo with me. Was this a common thing? For people to be afraid to leave me alone with the people they cared about, but unable to protest due to my godhood?

After a few minutes of walking, my godly self stopped. “Allow me to introduce, the Chryseae Celedones.” He snapped his fingers. Three golden women materialized. Percy looked wary, stepping back a little.

“Uh…What did you say these were? Krissy Kelly something?”

“Chryseae Celedones,” my former self corrected. “Golden singers. They’re my backup band!”

Grover gaped at the mechanical women, his eyes bulging. “I- I didn’t think they were real!”

Huh/ I’d have to perform with them a little more often, if people didn’t even know they existed. From the looks of it, Grover would probably enjoy the concert.

My past self laughed. “Well, it’s been a few centuries since I brought them out. If they perform too often, you know, their novelty wears off. They used to live at my temple at Delphi. Man, they could rock that place. Now I only use them for special occasions.”

Ah, I remembered those long ago days. I made sure to host a concert with them at least once per a mortal’s lifetime, so that every Pythian Oracle had a chance to hear them. I’d have to break them out of storage so that Rachel could attend a concert with them, once I was back on Olympus of course. Maybe hold a concert at camp? It could be a special one, mainly for the campers. If gods wanted to attend, they’d have to actually come down… which meant that their kids could see them. Hm…

Grover had misunderstood. “You brought them out for my birthday?”

Considering I hadn’t even KNOWN it was his birthday, I’d say no. My godly self quickly disabused Grover of that notion… though he was a bit of a jerk about it. “No, fool! I’ve got a concert tonight on Mount Olympus. Everyone is going to be there! The Nine Muses are opening, I’m performing a mix of old favorites and new material. I mean, it’s not like I need the Celedones. My solo career has been great. But people will expect to hear some of my classic hits with the girls: ‘Daphne on my Mind’, ‘Stairway to Olympus’. ‘Sweet Home Atlantis’. It’s going to be awesome!”

A concert with the Nine Muses… I’d promised Crest he’d get to play with me. I sobbed a little, thinking of him turning to dust in my arms. 

Withdrawn as she was, Meg still looked concerned at my distress. She hesitantly placed a hand on my arm, but looked ready to flee at the slightest sign of trouble. I flashed her a grateful smile. She looked away, not meeting my eyes… but she kept her hand where it was.

Percy didn’t look thrilled at the prospect of my concert for some reason. Actually, he just generally seemed to wish I wasn’t there. I couldn’t blame him. I’d already noticed that there were only three Celedones, not four, and I remembered issuing a quest to Percy and Grover. He wanted a day off, and I’d ruined that.

“Great. So what’s the problem?” Percy said resignedly.

My godly self demonstrated the problem “Listen.” He commanded them to sing, just a single note. To me, their music sounded slightly empty. It needed that last singer. But to everyone else… 

Percy and Grover stared at the automatons, enthralled. I caught Meg staring at them too, though she looked slightly less bewitched than the other two. Perhaps traveling with me had given her a more discerning ear?

A few moments later the girls slowly died down, releasing the mortals from their stupor. Percy stammered out “That… That was amazing.”

By his standards, sure, but by my godly self’s standards? “Amazing? There are only three of them! Their harmonies are empty. I can’t perform without the full quartet.”

Grover sobbed, “They’re so beautiful. They’re perfect!”

Maybe I should warn Grover away from the concert. I doubted that Juniper would appreciate how much her boyfriend seemed to adore the Celedones.

My past self seemed miffed that the mortals didn’t realize the problem. “They’re not perfect, Mr. Satyr.” I groaned. Seriously, he had a name! If you’re asking them for help, the least you could do is remember who you’re asking! “I need all four or the concert will be ruined. Unfortunately, my fourth Celedon went rogue this morning. I can’t find her anywhere.”

Percy seemed confused. “Uh… how does a backup singer go rogue?”

My godly self commanded the Celedones to sigh a depressing note, bringing the mood down.He explained,  “They’re out of warranty. Hephaestus made them back for me in the old days, and they worked fine… until the day after their two-thousandth year warranty expired. Then naturally, WHAM! The fourth one goes haywire and runs off to the big city. Of course I tried to complain to Hephaestus, but he’s all  _Well, did you have my Protection Plus  package_? And I’m like,  _I didn’t want your stupid extended warranty_! And he acts as if it’s my fault the Celedon broke, and says if I’d bought the Plus package, I could’ve had a dedicated service hotline, but-”

Ugh, I SWEAR Hephaestus does this kind of thing on purpose. He insists it’s coincidence, but after the fourth time something worked perfectly for thousands of years, then started malfunctioning within the week after the warranty expired, I stopped believing him.

Percy wasn’t interested in hearing the full story. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. So if you know that your Celedon is in the city, why can’t you look for her yourself?”

Because I was lazy and considered my time to be far more valuable than theirs, I silently replied. What my past self actually said however, was, “I don’t have time! I have to practice. Besides, this is what heroes are for.”

The look on Percy’s face as he muttered “Running the gods’ errands,” reminded me of how I had looked when Britomartis had demanded that Calypso and I go and fetch her griffins, and that that took priority over finding Georgina because she was a goddess, so her needs were more important than Jo’s or Emmie’s. When I’d wondered whether heroes were ever annoyed at ungrateful and had to restrain themselves, but I had dismissed the idea, not wanting to admit that it was probably the case. Enough had happened that I refused to delude myself any longer. 

Percy muttered, “Running the gods’ errands,” resignedly. 

“Exactly.”

No. That was NOT what heroes were for. I’d SEEN heroes fight for their friends… and die in place of them. Jason. Crest. Heloise. They were heroes. They’d fought until their last breath to protect the people they cared about. To see MYSELF treat heroes as errand boys, as mere servants to cater to the gods’ whims… I had a sudden urge to punch myself in my smiling, oblivious divine face.

Sadly, I could not. Apollo continued on, explaining the quest. “I assume the missing Celedon is roaming the Theater District, looking for a suitable place to audition. Celedons have the usual starlet dreams - being discovered, headlining a Broadway musical, that sort of thing. Most of the time I can keep their ambitions under control. I mean, I can’t have them upstaging me, can I? But I’m sure without me around she thinks she’s the next Katy Perry.  You two need to get her before she causes any problems. And hurry! The concert is tonight, and Manhattan is a large island.”

Grover summarized the situation nicely, “So… you want us to find her, while you do sound checks?”

“Think of it as a favor. Not just for me, but for all the mortals in Manhattan.”

Well at least I hadn’t portrayed it as ME doing the favor of ALLOWING them to help me. I’d had THAT much awareness, at least.

Wait… for all the mortals? Why would it be a favor for…?

Oh. 

Oh NO.

Grover realized at the same time I did. Had the same reaction too. “Oh. Oh NO…”

Grover looked completely terrified, a feeling that I had become well acquainted with over my past few months as a mortal. Terrified not for himself, but for the innocent humans just going about their day.

Percy still hadn’t caught on. “What? What  _oh no_?”

“Percy, if that Celedon starts singing in public, in the middle of an afternoon rush hour-”

“She’ll cause no end of havoc,” my past self cut in. “She might sing a love song, or a lullaby, or a patriotic war tune, and whatever the mortals hear…”

This had gone beyond me just annoying some heroes and ruining Grover’s birthday. By not trying to get the Celedon back as soon as possible myself, I had endangered countless mortal lives, simply because I wanted to practice for a concert. If anyone had died or had been irreparably been injured because of my negligence, I’d never forgive myself. It would be just another thing to add to my list of mistakes.

At least I’d gone to some capable heroes. I might have ruined Grover’s birthday, but I didn’t have to worry about them having too much trouble. Grover and Percy were both very capable, they could easily handle a rogue singer.

“She has to be stopped. But why us?” Percy questioned. 

Because you’re strong and you’re conveniently nearby, I wanted to answer. Instead my past self stated, “I like you!”

_Yes, and if you REALLY liked them, you’d go away and retrieve her yourself_. Sadly, I could be annoyed at my past self all I wanted. It didn’t change what had happened.

Of course, that wasn’t the ONLY reason I had gone with them… 

“You’ve faced the Sirens before. This isn’t too different. Just put some wax in your ears. Plus your friend Grover is a satyr. He has natural resistance to magical music. Plus he can play the lyre.”

Well at least I bothered remembering Grover’s name this time. Hopefully I’d keep up that trend.

Percy seemed perplexed. “What lyre?” 

My godly self summoned my personal lyre. I had created it after I gave my old one, the one Hermes had created when he ran off with my cattle, to Orpheus. 

At least I was giving them some much-needed equipment to make things easier.

Grover realized the importance of what he held. “Oh! I couldn’t! This is your-”

“Yes. That’s my own personal lyre. Of course, if you damage it, I’ll incinerate you, but I’m sure you’ll be careful! You do know how to play the lyre, don’t you?”

…

really

REALLY?!

I just HAD to make that threat?

I’d hoped that I was only that much of a murderous asshole because I was so stressed, but NO, I just casually made those threats. They didn’t even want any part of this, I’d forced it on them!

Meg let go of my arm, turning to glare at me. I opened my mouth to try to talk to her, but we weren’t quite done with this scene.

Grover plucked a few notes, looking very, very uncertain. “Ummm…”

“Keep practicing. You’ll need the lyre’s magic to capture the Celedon. Have Percy distract her while you play.”

“Distract her,” Percy repeated, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing… or like he didn’t WANT to believe it, but knew he’d heard exactly right.

My godly self naturally either didn’t notice or didn’t care how Percy felt about all this. “Excellent! I’ll meet you at the Empire State Building at sunset. Bring me the Celedon. One way or another, I’ll persuade Hephaestus to fix her. Just don’t be late! I can’t keep my audience waiting. And remember, not a scratch on that lyre.”

My godly self disappeared. The world blurred. When it came back into focus, we were on a stage. My godly self began starting his sound checks. I took the opportunity to finally have a much-needed conversation with Meg. She still stood beside me, refusing to meet my eyes.

“Meg?” I ventured, asking as gently as possible. I didn’t want to scare or upset her more than I already had.

She stayed silent for a minute. Finally she mumbled something.

“What?” I asked, unable to hear her properly.

She mumbled a little more loudly this time. “The Beast.”

Huh? What did Nero have to do with this?

“What about the Beast?” I asked quietly.

She hesitated, picking her words carefully… as if she was afraid of the consequences if she didn’t.

“That… that was your Beast right, threatening our friends? You were holding him back. You stopped him from hurting them, right?”

No.

NO.

NONONONONONONONONONONONONO

My heart shattered. 

I was NOT letting Meg go down that train of thought. I would NOT play Nero’s little game of pretend. Maybe she’d hate and fear me. But at least she’d know it was ME that was to blame, NO ONE ELSE.

I sat on the stage, trying to get down to Meg’s height to seem less imposing. 

I looked her in the eye. “Meg. That was me. There is no Beast. There was NEVER a Beast. It was JUST. ME. I was being an idiot, a murderous, stupid, selfish idiot. Leo, Grover, Percy? They had done NOTHING wrong. NONE of them deserved my threats, deserved to think I might hurt them. What I said was WRONG, and I’m sorry. I can’t justify those threats. I won’t even try. Just know this; I WON’T do that again. If you ever thought I was going down that path - if you were EVER afraid that I was reverting to being that sort of asshole again, once I was a god - then contact Artemis. If by some miracle I regain my godhood, I’ll make sure you have some way to contact her, something more secure than an Iris message. I want you and the other mortals to feel SAFE around me, to know that I won’t hurt you. If you or any others still can’t trust me, that’s okay. You don’t have to forgive me for how I behaved in the past. Your trust is yours to give, and yours to withhold. You can take as much time as you wish, forever if you want to. I’ll still try to prove myself worthy of it.”

Meg looked back at me, emotions blurring across herself. Finally she scrunched up her face and looked at me, meeting my eyes this time. “You were stupid. But if you’re gonna be better now, then I think I can forgive you. But you need to apologize to everyone, and don’t do it again.”

I let out a sharp laugh as tears of relief sprang from my eyes. “Yes. Yes, I’ll do that. Next time we see Frank, Hazel, Leo, Percy, or Grover, I’ll do that.”

She hesitated for another moment. I waited. I wasn’t going to rush her.

 “Would you have gone through with them? With your threats?”

I wanted to say  _no, of course not, I was just bluffing_ … but I wasn’t entirely sure. I didn’t  _think_  I would…

“No. No, I wouldn’t have,” I said at last. I sounded painfully unsure, even to myself.

Meg bit her lip and looked away again.

The world blurred again. It seemed that this part was on fast forward.

We reappeared at the park. Grover and Percy arrived a couple minutes later, looking bedraggled, but mostly unharmed.

“Excellent!” my godly self cried out, taking the caged Celedon from them. “I’ll get Hephaestus to fix her up, and this time I’m not taking any excuses about expired warranties! My show starts in half an hour!”

“You’re welcome,” Percy muttered. Yep, he definitely felt the same way I had after Britomartis had given me faint praise after retrieving her griffins.

I glanced at the lyre Grover was holding,and his fearful expression. There was a scratch on its side.

Oh no.

As Grover handed the lyre back to him, my godly self caught sight of the scratch. His expression turned angry and closed off. “You scratched it.” Meg went rigid again, breathing short shallow breaths. The air thickened with tension.

Grover whimpered “Lord Apollo-”. I resolved to buy him as many tin cans as he could eat and give him a long, LONG apology for this. Seeing him this scared of me, legitimately afraid that I would incinerate him, made me want to punch myself even more.

Luckily, Percy interfered before my godly self did something he couldn’t take back. “It was the only way to catch the Celedon. Besides, it’ll buff out. Get Hephaestus to do it. He owes you, right?”

A moment later, my past self grunted his agreement, his expression softening again. “I suppose you’re right. Well, good job, you two! As your reward, you’re invited to watch me perform on Mount Olympus!”

Meg’s breathing slowed down to a normal speed and her muscles loosened. I also relaxed a little. I hadn’t gone through with my threat. I hadn’t been that far gone, even then.

Grover and Percy glanced at each other, clearly wanting no part of that. I couldn’t see why. I might think that my past self was an asshole, but that didn’t stop me from being an asshole with superb musical skills.

Percy hurriedly found a way out of the invitation. “We aren’t worthy. We’d love to, really, but you know, we’d probably explode or something if we heard your godly music at full volume.”

All true - except for the ‘not being worthy’ part - but I could tell it was an excuse. My past self wasn’t nearly as perceptive. “You’re right. It might distract from my performance if you exploded. How considerate of you. Well, I’m off, then. Happy birthday Percy!”

Seriously? I BOUGHT that? Also, I STILL believed that it was Percy’s birthday? It’s not like his birthday was hugely significant to the fate of the world, OH WAIT.

Meg snorted out a small laugh. I was glad that at least she could find a little humor in my stupidity. At least I was good for SOMETHING.

I blinked, and we were both back at Camp Jupiter. I collapsed on the floor. That had been emotionally exhausting. 

Meg sat a short distance from me, looking at her hands. “Hey,” I muttered quietly to her, still trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. “Let’s get up. I need to start making some apologies.” 

She smiled slightly and stood up. Together we walked out of the tent to find our friends.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by an idea I had several months ago. At the time I wrote it in the form of an analysis post on my tumblr titled: "The fight with Otis and Ephialtes in MoA takes on a whole new meaning in the context of ToA." 
> 
> Here's the link if you wish to read it for yourselves. http://flightfoot.tumblr.com/post/177141669997/the-fight-with-otis-and-ephialtes-in-moa-takes-on
> 
> Anyways, now that I can actually write pretty well, I wanted to take a crack at the idea in fanfiction form. I hope I did it justice!

When the world solidified, we were surrounded by a chaotic scene. Fireworks of some sort were going off over our heads, though I was more concerned by the Giant in front of us… until the roof above him fell and crushed him.

I looked around wildly, trying to figure out where and when this was. I saw Piper sitting down, badly injured next to a barely conscious Nico. I instinctively started towards them, then froze. Someone else was already on his way. A young man with blond hair rushed towards them.

Jason.

My mind stopped working, unable to comprehend what I was seeing. I started forwards as if in a trance, but only got a few feet before Meg grabbed my arm. I looked back at her, not understanding. Jason was here! Why didn’t she want me to go to him? She looked back at me with uncharacteristic gentleness, stating quietly, “Apollo, this is the past. You can’t interact with Jason. This already happened. He’s gone now.” Her grip loosened, allowing me to continue to Jason if I wished. I didn’t move. Meg was right. I could only observe.

 _Get it together Apollo_ , I scolded myself.  _You don’t know what this memory will show, so you need to brace yourself._

I looked around some more, trying to determine when and whose memory this was. If there were Giants around, then it would likely be taking placing during the war with Gaea last year. Meg wasn’t involved with that, so it couldn’t be her memory, and I only remembered facing Giants at the very end of the War at the Parthenon, and we certainly weren’t at that point in time, which meant…

I glanced back at the third member of our party. Percy looked tense, ready to pull out his sword and start slashing at a moments notice. I glanced around, and sure enough, there was another version of Percy present in the past here, standing in front of a weird machine, looking out at everything that was going on… which was a lot. One of the Giants - Ephialtes I believed, from what I could dredge up from the depths of my memory - was already reforming, dragging himself out of the pile of his own dust, his head, arms, and shoulders already reformed.

On the other side of the room, the rubble from the roof exploded, showering debris everywhere. I ducked instinctively as a piece of it the size of a basketball rocketed towards me, only for it to pass right through me.

Ah. Yes. I couldn’t be hurt here, not by the past anyway. It could only inflict emotional pain, not physical damage.

“Percy! The controls!” Jason yelled. Past!Percy unfroze, pulling out his sword and slashing at the control panel with it.

“No!” Ephialtes wailed. “You’ve ruined the spectacle!”

Percy started turning around to face him, but it wasn’t fast enough. Ephialtes swung his spear at him.

I lost control of my legs, crumbling to the floor. Distantly I heard screaming emanating from somewhere. It took a moment to realize it was from me.

“APOLLO!” Meg yelled at me. It felt like I was hearing her through a fog. “APOLLO!” she screamed again, kneeling in front of me, blocking my view. Slowly, I focused in on her face, the terror and worry in her expression, the tears in her eyes… all directed at  _me_.

Slowly, I came to my senses. This was the past. Percy was alive and next to me in the present. I looked back wildly to make sure of that fact. Percy was still standing perfectly still, staring at the scene in front of him, looking like he wanted to rip someone’s throat out. I shivered at his expression, but at least he was alive.

Meg cupped my face in her hands, an unusual show of support from her. “No one died here. You KNOW that. You saw them later. They survived this.”

Shakily I drew breath, and attempted to get to my feet. Meg helped me up, supporting me until I could stand up straight on my own. I wobbled a little, but didn’t fall.

I could do this. I had to. I had to know why Percy, Meg, and I were drawn into this flashback. The last flashback sequence I’d been in had been highly painful for both Meg and I, but we’d learned a lot - especially me. Seeing how I used to act and how people reacted to me had solidified my determination to never be like that again. And Meg had learned that people she cared about may have been assholes in the past, but still genuinely cared for her and wanted to rectify their mistakes. I wish she hadn’t had to learn that way, though.

I only hoped that this flashback wouldn’t be as harrowing for Meg as the last one had been. Let all the pain fall on me. I deserved it. She didn’t.

I gathered myself and looked around. past!Percy and Jason were side-by-side, looking tired, but still determined to save themselves and their friends. Piper and Nico were over by the dais on the floor, barely able to move.

Ephialtes smiled at past!Percy and Jason. I shuddered. “Tired, Percy Jackson? As I said, you cannot kill us. So I guess we’re at an impasse. Oh, wait… no we’re not! Because we can kill you!”

That’s right. Giants could only be killed by a demigod and a god working together. And they’d all survived this fight. Which meant that a god must’ve helped out somehow. But who, and how?

I looked around, as if merely willing for a divine being would make it happen. Alas, I saw no sign of a god.

His brother Otis picked up his spear. My eyes locked onto it as he spoke, “That is the first sensible thing you’ve said all day, brother.”

The giants pointed their weapons at past!Percy and Jason. Jason growled, “We won’t give up. We’ll cut you into pieces like Jupiter did to Saturn.”

past!Percy joined in on the attempt at intimidation. I was pretty sure they were trying to convince themselves more than anyone else, “That’s right. You’re both dead. I don’t care if we have a god on our side or not.”

“Well that’s a shame,” a voice cut in. I perked up. I KNEW that voice! 

A platform lowered from the ceiling, revealing a man with a pinecone-tipped staff.

BACCHUS!

I smiled, hope blooming in my chest. They had a god on their side now! They’d fight together and defeat Otis and Ephialtes, at least long enough for everyone to get away safely.

I glanced at Percy, expecting to see him smile now that help had arrived. Instead he narrowed his eyes to slits, breathing heavily, his face contorted into an expression of hatred and disgust.

My heart sank. What had happened? Bacchus had helped… right? He must have. They wouldn’t have survived otherwise. So why did he look like he wanted to turn the wine god inside-out?

I very hesitantly called to Percy. I didn’t want that expression, that anger turned on me, but I needed to know.

“Percy, what happened here? Why do you look like you want to rip Bacchus apart with your bare hands?” I asked carefully. 

Percy gave me a withering look. I tried not to whimper. I didn’t think it was truly directed at me, but Percy was REALLY mad, and he couldn’t just turn that off. Through gritted teeth, he muttered. “Just. Watch.”

So I did.

Bacchus glanced over at Ephialtes, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “Really, Ephialtes? Killing demigods is one thing. But using leopards for your spectacle? That’s over the line.”

I gritted my teeth at the casual attitude towards the demigods’ lives, but didn’t react beyond that. That was typical, as horrible as it was. I didn’t think that would cause this reaction from Percy.

Ephialtes looked terrified of Bacchus, making a small squeaking noise as he stuttered “This- this is impossible.  D-D-”

I missed being able to make my enemies quake so much. But at least I wasn’t scaring my friends anymore, which was nice.

Bacchus cut him off before he could stammer at the rest. “It’s Bacchus, actually, old friend. And of course it’s possible. Someone told me a party was going on.”

Ephialtes quivered, attempting to intimidate Bacchus, and failing. “You- you gods are doomed! Be gone, in the name of Gaea!”

“Hmm.” Bacchus grunted, not looking the slightest bit afraid.

He waved at all the various junk that the Giants had evidently set up, now scattered around the area. “Tacky. Cheap. Boring. And this…” here he pause to examine some sort of rocket-like machine. “Tacky, cheap,  _and_  boring. Honestly, Ephialtes. You have no sense of style.”

On that, I agreed. Ephialtes didn’t. “STYLE?” I have  _mountains_  of style. I  _define_ style. I- I-”

“My brother  _oozes_  style,” Otis said, helping his brother out.

“Thank you!” Ephialtes cried.

Bacchus stepped towards the giants, causing them to stumble back as they tried to put some distance between themselves and the god. After seeing them try to kill Percy and Jason, it was gratifying to watch. “Have you two gotten shorter?”

Apparently one thing Ephialtes couldn’t take was height jokes. “Oh, that’s low. I’m quite tall enough to destroy you, Bacchus! You gods, always hiding behind your mortal heroes, trusting the fate of Olympus to the likes of  _these_.”

Jason raised his sword. “Lord Bacchus, are we going to kill the giants, or what?”

“Well, I certainly hope so,” Bacchus said. “Please, carry on.”

I blinked. Then I blinked again. WHAT. He could NOT be about to do what I thought he was going to do. We’d be on the chopping block too if the giants succeeded, it made no sense NOT to help as much as he could. Simple self-preservation should have been enough motivation, even if compassion wasn’t Surely I was the only one who had been THAT idiotic about helping the Seven.

Past!Percy was also shocked. “Didn’t you come here to help?”

Bacchus shrugged, not seeming to care much. “Oh, I appreciated the sacrifice at sea. A whole ship full of Diet Coke. Very nice. Though I would have preferred Diet Pepsi.”

“And six million in gold and jewels,” past!Percy muttered under his breath.

My eyes nearly bugged out of my skull. That big a tribute?! I hadn’t had that large a tribute in one go in centuries! That HAD to be worthy of Bacchus’s help.

“Yes, although with demigod parties of five or more, the gratuity is included, so it wasn’t necessary.”

“What?”

I shared past!Percy’s confusion. He’d gotten an awesome tribute, just take it and help them!

“Never mind,” Bacchus said. “At any rate, you got my attention. I’m here. Now I need to see if you’re worthy of my help. Go ahead. Battle. If I’m impressed, I’ll jump in for the grand finale.”

If they’re WORTHY?! They had both proven their ‘worthiness’ ages ago, between all the quests they did for us gods,  with how they had helped to save us time and time again, with barely any recognition, even a ‘thank you’. They were far more worthy of help than most of the gods were. I growled lowly. I was beginning to understand why Percy had looked at Bacchus with so much hatred in his eyes.

Meg stared at him too. Abruptly she declared, “He’s stupid.” I didn’t disagree with her.

Meanwhile, past!Percy was still trying to figure out what it WOULD take to get Bacchus’s help. “We speared one. Dropped the roof on another. What do you consider impressive?”

“Ah, a good question…” Bacchus tapped his staff in thought. Then he smiled. A cold trickle of dread ran down my back. That was the same smile he gave whenever he came up with an interesting new way to drive his enemies mad. I didn’t want to see it on him here, in these circumstances. I silently prayed that Bacchus would see sense and just help the demigods without playing any games, though I knew even then that it was a futile hope. 

I felt a tingle on the back of my neck. Percy was shaking even harder, his eyes eyes as stormy as a hurricane. I felt the intense urge to fall to my knees and beg him not to hurt my friends, but fought it off. He wasn’t angry at me this time, and there was no way he’d hurt Meg.

“Perhaps you need inspiration! The stage hasn’t been properly set. You call this a spectacle, Ephialtes? Let me show you how it’s done.”

Bacchis vanished, taking Piper and Nico with him. Jason shouted, alarmed, “Pipes! Bacchus, where did you-”

Jason was abruptly cut off by the floor rising and reshaping itself, the entire area reconfiguring. Meg shouted in surprise, “Percy, what’s going on?! What’s Bacchus doing?!”

Percy yelled back, disgust dripping from his words, “He’s setting up a show. Jason and I are the main  _entertainment_.”

I flinched. This… this was way too familiar. I remembered all those times in the past when I had watched demigods fight, not caring whether they died. No, that was wrong. Wanting them to die in entertaining ways as I ate popcorn. I’d used demigods lives for entertainment myself, and never gave a thought to the demigods’ welfare.

Still, I’d never done anything like this, deliberately making demigods fight for my amusement before intervening. This… this was WAY too far. It seemed familiar though…

From way up above, I heard Bacchus’s voice. “This is a proper show!” he boomed. He sat resplendent in the emperor’s box, clothed in purple robes and golden laurels.

And then I realized.

This… this was just like when Commodus had made Meg and I fight for our lives in his arena. He had treated the whole thing like a giant game for his entertainment, a celebration of his ego and a way to stave off his boredom. Bacchus was acting the same way. He even LOOKED similar, wearing similar robes and headwear, giving that same smug expression, secure in his own superiority, in his ability to force others to do as he wished.

We gods could be just as bad as the Emperors. And not only the more well-known vindictive gods and goddesses (looking at you, Hera), but even the more ordinary gods and goddesses behaved like this. And Bacchus… of all the Olympians, he should have known better. He HAD BEEN a demigod. He should have known, should have been the one to champion demigods’ values. Instead here he was, smiling condescendingly down at past!Percy and Jason, safe from harm while the mortals fought to survive.

I choked down bile as it rose up my throat. I welcomed the burn. It hurt less than the realization of how BADLY we gods had screwed up, how much pain and suffering we had put others through, people far more deserving of adulation than we were.

“Commodus,” Meg stated. “He’s like Commodus.”

“Yes,” I replied, loathing coloring my words. “Yes, he’s just like Commodus.”

I looked to Bacchus’s side and let out a sigh of relief. Piper and Nico were sitting next to him, being tended to by a nymph. I let out a sigh of relief. Perhaps Bacchus was slightly better than Commodus - but only slightly.

pastPercy glared up at Bacchus, joining our Percy’s hateful stare. “You’re just going to  _sit_  there?”

“The demigod is right!” Ephialtes bellowed. I’d jumped. I’d somehow forgotten he was there with how caught up I was in my own head, “Fight us yourself, coward! Um, without the demigods.”

Bacchus smiled down lazily. I wanted to punch him in the face. “Juno says she’s assembled a worthy crew of demigods. Show me. Entertain me, heroes of Olympus. Being a god has its privileges.”

 _Being a god has its privileges_. I had heard that sentiment before, both from Britomartis when she insisted that as a goddess, her needs outranked Jo’s and Emmie’s… and from myself in an earlier flashback, when I had agreed that heroes were for running gods’ errands.

We took demigods for granted, all of us. Treated them like dirt, then expected them to bow and scrape for us, be delighted at any scrap of compensation we threw their way.

We were bullies. That’s all we were. Bullies with an insane amount of power, but bullies nonetheless.

past!Percy’s expression was nearly the same as present Percy’s; incredibly pissed off. Jason didn’t look much happier. They didn’t have time to stand around however. The two giants picked up a fake mountain -  _why had Bacchus included that?_  - and hurled it at the two demigods.

Jason yelled something to past!Percy, but I couldn’t make it out over the roar of the crowd as they chanted “Fight! Fight!”. They conferred for a moment, exchanging words quietly enough that the giants couldn’t hear them, which meant  _we_  couldn’t hear them either.

They charged out of the trench together. I’d hoped they’d come up with a more sophisticated plan than attack-them-until-either-they-or-we-die. past!Percy caused a water pipe to explode, sending gushing water everywhere. Meanwhile, Jason summoned a howling gale of wind. The combined force of the two elements caused the brothers to lose their grip on the mountain and topple to the floor. They had bought time, but not much.

past!Percy yelled loudly “Hey Otis!  _The Nutcracker_ bites!”

I had to snort at that one. Even now, Percy was cracking jokes.

Then Otis picked up his spear again. I tensed, breathing hard.  _It’s okay, it’s okay, he lives through this, I WILL NOT HAVE TO WATCH HIM DIE AGAIN_.

The spear sailed far over past!Percy’s head. I relaxed slightly. At least Otis didn’t have it now.

Otis charged towards past!Percy… bad idea, with the body of water behind him. Otis seemed to realize this as well. Unfortunately for him, giants have a LOT of momentum. past!Percy and Jason dodged out of the way, Jason sending a gust of wind to help push Otis into the water. They brought their swords down onto Otis’s head while he struggled vainly to extract himself from the water. He exploded into dust, but even seconds later, he started reforming. past!Percy churned the lake into a whirlpool, Jason sending lightning bolts onto Otis’s head whenever he started reforming.  But Otis kept on trying to reform, and Ephialtes wouldn’t be down for much longer.

“Bacchus, HELP THEM ALREADY!” I screamed at the lazy, selfish, IDIOTIC god. He couldn’t hear me, but it made me feel better. “They’ve done the most they can do on their own, what more do you need to see?!”

“He won’t help; not yet,” Percy growled. “He doesn’t want to lift a finger. He won’t join in unless they’ve already been defeated. He doesn’t care whether we get hurt or almost die in the process. He’s a god, his  _whims,_ “ Percy spat out venomously, “matter more than our wellbeing. We’re just demigods - we’re  _disposable_.”

 _He’s a god, his whims matter more than our wellbeing. We’re just demigods - we’re disposable_.  I wished I could deny Percy’s implication. I wished I could say ‘Oh no, we value demigod’s lives, what Bacchus did was horrible and crossed the line, most of us would never have acted like Bacchus did..’ But I couldn’t. We  _didn’t_  value demigods as much as we should. What Bacchus did here was awful, absolutely horrible, but I would barely have batted an eye at it when I was a god. I would’ve just watched - just like Bacchus now was.

The fake mountain exploded, Ephialtes emerging from the rubble. He looked PISSED, his snake feet hissing and spitting. I shuddered. As if I needed ANOTHER reason to hate these giants. To make it worse, HE hadn’t lost his spear.

Jason called down some more lightning, but Ephialtes deflected it with his spear. He charged at Jason and past!Percy, forcing Percy to stop swirling Otis’s essence around and to help Jason fend Ephialtes off.

They lunged around him, trying to stab the giant, but he just parried or dodged out of the way of every blow. Jason and Percy were slowing down. Ephialtes was not.

“I will not yield!,” Ephialtes roared. “You may have ruined my spectacle, but Gaea will still destroy your world!”

past!Percy slashed Ephialtes’s spear, breaking it in half. For a moment I dared to hope that Ephialtes would throw it away, would at least pick some OTHER weapon, but no. He held onto his (now considerably shorter) spear, sweeping Percy off his feet with a swipe at Percy’s feet (with the blunt end of the spear at least, so there was SOME small favor there). Percy fell hard, his sword clattering out of his grip. My heart skipped a beat. I knew Riptide would reappear in his pocket in a few moments, but I wasn’t sure that he HAD moments.

I looked over at our Percy, staring at the scene in front of us intensely. He had survived this. I had to keep remembering that.

I switched my attention back to the past. I wished I hadn’t.

Jason stepped forwards, stabbing at Ephialtes’s chest while his attention was still on past!Percy. Ephialtes was not THAT distracted unfortunately. He parried Jason’s strike and lashed out himself, slicing the tip of his spear down Jason’s torso, then kicked him away.

I screamed.

The world wavered around me. I collapsed on the ground, my legs folding underneath me. I was on Caligula’s ship, Piper on the ground next to me, watching in horror as Caligula plunged his spear into Jason’s chest, unable to do anything but observe,  _useless_.  Distantly I heard Piper cry out.

Wait… I actually HEARD that yell. The world snapped back into focus. I looked up. Piper was yelling down from the emperor’s box, her eyes wild and panicked. I had seen those eyes before.

They were the same eyes she had when Jason was murdered in front of us.

She’d had to watch, horrified, as Jason and Percy were almost murdered in front of her, herself too injured and far away to intervene, an uncaring god by her side, just WATCHING. Who COULD help, but who DIDN’T CARE. As I glared at Bacchus, he smiled lazily at the terrible scene, munching on a Dorito chip.

This… this was why Piper had lashed out like she did after Jason died.  _“You don’t care because you’re a god. You’ll go back to Olympus after you free the Oracles, so what does it matter? You’re using us to get what you want, like all the other gods.”_

She’d  _seen_  it before. She  _knew_  that the gods didn’t care, that the gods would just use her and her friends, never mind the destruction we left in our wake, not caring about the aftermath.

Not caring that her friend had almost died for a god’s sick amusement.

Not caring that he  _did_  die, on a quest that wasn’t even his.

No wonder she hadn’t wanted to see me after that. No wonder she wanted me to leave and never return. At this moment,  _I_  didn’t want me around. I didn’t want the reminder of all I had been, of all I had done. Of all I  _hadn’t_ done.

My mouth felt dry and sandpapery as I gazed up at the vile being lounging in the Emperor’s seat. He revulsed me.

No… the entire attitude of gods towards the demigods, towards our children, our FAMILY revulsed me. I couldn’t pretend that it was just Bacchus. Most of us had this attitude, this utter disregard for anyone who wasn’t in our weight class. If they weren’t strong enough to seriously harm us, and we weren’t personally attached to them, then why should we care about their lives at all? They were pawns to use and discard as we pleased.

This HAD TO END. It wasn’t enough to just change myself. That would NEVER be enough. For the first time I truly appreciated what Percy had said after the Second Titan War, when he turned down godhood, and asked us to grant his wish instead. I had been annoyed that he would presume to bind us, that he would have the AUDACITY to tell us how to treat our children and each other, though I secretly agreed with him.

But now?

Now I understood. We had been monsters, only barely better than the beings we had rebelled against. I couldn’t blame Luke or any of the other demigods from rebelling. When the people who should care about you, your  _family_  barely acknowledges your existence, uses you as they please and throws you away, anyone who promises a better future, a way out, sounds tempting. The alternative was to continue the status quo, and the status quo was  _intolerable_.

Percy had done the best he could, forcing us to send help for our children, to bring them to camp, and to actually claim them. But it wasn’t enough. We had obeyed his wish to the letter, and things HAD improved, but there was still a long way to go.

We had to change. All of us gods. We had to start treating demigods better - and not only our own children, but other gods’ children as well. They were NOT our playthings. They were PEOPLE. They were FAMILY. It was time we started treating them as such.

Time moved forwards, as it inevitably does. Ephialtes raised both halves of his spear above past!Percy’s and Jason’s heads as they lay on the ground, weaponless, barely able to move.

Meg screamed up at Bacchus, fear coloring her face, but her voice quivering with anger, “Help them NOW, you STUPID GOD. They’ll DIE!”

“He won’t help yet,” Percy growled, his voice low and even. I wished he had yelled. It would have been less terrifying. “He doesn’t care.”

“Then how…?” I croaked. I could see no way out of this without outside help. 

Then I looked up.

“Oh.”

Ephialtes hadn’t noticed. Otis tried to warn him, but his head still wasn’t full reformed, so it came out as, “Uh-umh-mooo!” which wasn’t very comprehensible.

Ephialtes couldn’t understand him either. “Don’t worry, brother!” he proclaimed, his eyes fixed on both of the demigods, and unfortunately for him, NOT on the sky. “I will make them suffer!”

“Actually,” past!Percy said,” Look behind you.”

Percy and Jason rolled out of the way just before the Argo II fired its first shot at Ephialtes. It didn’t destroy him, but it left him charred and exhausted on the ground. Otis wasn’t much better. He was still trying to gather himself together, but he looked like burnt oatmeal from the arms down.

The ship descended to the ground, Leo at the helm, Hazel and Frank grinning by his side. I felt a smile tug at the corners of my mouth. Of course Leo had come through - when had he not?

past!Percy turned around and yelled insults at Bacchus, still lounging in the emperor’s box. Perhaps not the smartest thing to do, but it was satisfying to watch. “Well? Was that entertaining enough for you, you wine-breathed little-”

“No need for that,” Bacchus cut him off. “I have decided that you are worthy partners for this combat.”

“Partners? You did nothing!” both Jason and I yelled. I blinked, startled. I guess we thought alike at times. 

Bacchus strolled over to the pile of Otis mush. Bacchus smacked him with his pinecone staff, disintegrating him completely. The crowd cheered wildly, as if Bacchus had accomplished some great feat, instead of smacking an immobile and helpless opponent with a stick.

He strolled and strutted over to the other giant, basking in the adoration of the crowd. I felt sick. What was he trying to prove? And to who? Everyone had seen what had  _really_  happened. Percy and Jason had done most of the work, while the Argo II had finished them off. The ONLY reason Bacchus was required at this point, was because of the technical requirement that a god and demigod had to work together to defeat a giant. He hadn’t done anything great, or worthy of applause. He’d barely done anything at all!

As Bacchus raised his pinecone staff (a stupid-looking weapon if ever I had seen one, but I had learned better than to insult other gods’ symbols of power to their face), the crowd roared “DO IT!”

Ephialtes yelled in a panic, “DON’T DO IT!” but Bacchus wasn’t about to listen to him. He tapped Ephialtes on the nose. He instantly crumbled to ashes.

The crowd in the stadium cheered and threw confetti. Bacchus strode around triumphantly, arms open, basking in the applause. “ _That_ , my friends, is a show! And of  _course_  I did something. I killed two giants!”

Who was he trying to convince? He certainly wasn’t convincing the demigods. THEY had done all the work, had endured all the danger, while he just lounged around. And yet he wanted the credit. Saying that he had killed the giants may technically be correct, but he was exaggerating his role, making it seem like he had done more than he actually had.

Exaggerating his role…

I had done much the same thing over the years, spreading tales of what I had done that weren’t strictly accurate. I had told myself at the time that they were essentially true, even if they weren’t  _technically_  true. I hadn’t quite been able to fool myself.

I misrepresented the truth sometimes. Partly I did this to spread a certain reputation around, be seen in a certain way. I didn’t think the truth was enough, so I’d spin things to make myself come off differently.

Sometimes though, I was really lying to MYSELF. After I had defeated Python, I had declared how easily I had bested him, that a single arrow from my quiver had turned him to dust. This wasn’t to make myself look better to my brethren, though I told myself that that was the purpose. Hearing the TRUE story, how I had fought and struggled, had almost been destroyed several times throughout our battle, but had won in the end, would arguably have been more impressive.

But that wasn’t what I had WANTED to happen. I WANTED to tell myself that I had easily destroyed Python, that he didn’t haunt my nightmares, that I didn’t flinch when I heard the rustle of scales on stone. It was my way of rewriting history, of coping with the trauma of that battle.

And I just… kept on doing it. when reality didn’t line up with my needs or desires, I told myself that it was different. That was why I had my motivational pep talk,  _you are gorgeous and people love you_. It was an attempt to persuade myself that it was true.

What did it say about Bacchus that he was attempting something similar, trying to persuade himself that he had been more impressive, had done more than he really had? Perhaps we weren’t so different, in the end.

Still, regardless of his personal issues, he should NOT have taken them out on these young demigods. They had enough on their plates already.

The Argo II landed, Leo, Hazel, and Frank leaving the ship. Piper and Nico struggled down from the emperor’s box as best they could, until they reached the rest of their friends. The Colosseum which had only moments ago held a roaring crowd (granted, mostly of ghosts, but still a crowd) slowly dissolved into mist.

“Well, that was fun,” Bacchus said, looking satisfied. “You have my permission to continue your journey.”

“Your  _permission_?” past!Percy snarled. I had much the same reaction. They didn’t need Bacchus’s approval. Besides, if he HAD stopped them, Gaea would have destroyed us. 

“Yes, though  _your_  voyage may be a little harder than you expect, son of Neptune.”

“Poseidon,” Percy corrected. “What do you mean about  _my_  voyage?”

It seemed that Percy had already moved on from his fury. Of course he had. This was typical for gods; he hated it, but he would be used to it by now.

“You might try the parking lot behind the Emmanuel Building. Best place to break through. Now, good-bye, my friends. And, ah, good luck with that other little matter.”

Bacchus vanished.

What was he talking about, Percy’s journey being harder? Not for the first time, I wished that I had paid more attention to the world around me while I was trapped on Delos. But seeing the pain Artemis was going through, aware of what her Hunters were going through, but unable to intervene, had dissuaded me from doing so. I had been miserable enough as it was.

The world vanished. We were back at Camp Jupiter.

Percy turned to face me, his eyes stormy and full of resolve. He put his hand on my shoulder, looking me squarely in the eye. “Promise me,” he stated. “Promise me that when you regain your godhood you will never do what Bacchus just did. Promise that you won’t just stand aside and use us as your  _entertainment_. That you’ll value our lives.”

A promise, oh-so-similar to the one Jason had extracted from me on the day he died.

How could I not give my word?

I stared back into Percy’s eyes. Beneath the undercurrent of anger, I could sense how tired he was, how afraid that this would all be for not. That even after all that had happened, history would repeat. That the gods would continue on their path. That he and his friends would be toyed with again by those who were ostensibly on his side.

“I promise. If I regain my godhood, I will fight to stop the gods from using demigods only to throw you away. I will not allow this to continue if it is in my power to change it for the better. And I will not forget the worth of a mortal life, nor will I toy with them for my own amusement. How we treated you demigods was wrong. You are our family. We should have treated you as such.”

Percy held my gaze a moment longer, searching for sincerity in my words. Finally he nodded. I saw a sliver of cautious hope enter his eyes.

I took the opportunity to do something I should have done a long time ago.

“I’m sorry.”

Percy looked back at me, surprised. “For what?”

“I shouldn’t have treated you and Grover so badly, back during Grover’s birthday. I sent you two to retrieve my wayward automaton. That should’ve been MY responsibility. I completely ignored your objections, convinced that my needs outweighed yours. To make it worse, I threatened Grover. I saw that memory recently. I was a tool. I won’t do it again, force demigods and satyrs to take on a quest that should have been MY responsibility. It was wrong.”

Percy’s expression softened slightly. “Thanks. Make sure to apologize to Grover too, alright? He’s the one whose birthday was ruined, and he was the one you scared.”

“I will, next time I see him. I’ve got a long list of people I need to make amends to.”

“You do that.”

As he walked out the door, Percy paused and looked back at me. “Oh, and Apollo? I stand by what I said at camp. You HAVE changed.”

He went out the door.

A warm glow filled my chest. Before I hadn’t been thrilled to hear that I had changed. I didn’t want the reminder that I was less than perfect, that I could change like any human. But now? I could think of no greater compliment.

I had changed. I would ensure the other gods changed as well. They had to. I couldn’t let our neglect and abuse carry on. Not anymore. Never again would I sit on the sidelines. 

I would keep my promises to both Jason and Percy.

And I would remember.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took awhile, what with the carpal tunnel (which I still have. It sucks. But I couldn’t resist writing this any longer).
> 
> Hope you guys like this! I worked hard on it! 
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you like it! Also feel free to leave ideas! I don't know whether I'll take any of them up, but if it looks like it has potential, I might write a chapter on it.

When the world cleared, we were in the center of a large room, with giant thrones circling us. I recognized the place immediately, even with my failing memory. The Olympian throne room. I glanced at my golden throne. I wanted to stare at it for longer and wallow in self-pity at what I used to have, but something tore my attention away from the gleaming golden seat.

Kronos has a way of doing that.

“Finally!” he bellowed. I heard Annabeth breathe in sharply. She stared at him, looking confused and shocked. Meg was decidedly less surprised, looking somewhat bored as she looked over at the Titan. I really shouldn’t be surprised. Unless she’s already familiar with a threat, Meg’s rarely intimidated by them. 

The titan continued. I wished he had been nice enough to pause so that people in the future rewatching a memory of the event could talk and look around more. “The Olympian Council - so proud and mighty. Which seat of power shall I destroy first?”

“This is a flashback, isn’t it?” Annabeth asked quietly, refusing to tear her gaze from the body of the young man Kronos was inhabiting. I felt like I should know why she looked like she’d been sucker-punched, but as usual, the memories refused to surface. “Percy told me about the one he and you two went into.”

I frowned. Percy had stepped out of our tent to go eat, but he’d be back soon. I hoped he didn’t panic when he found the three of us in this weird trance. I marshalled my thoughts. Worrying about Percy’s reactions wouldn’t change anything. I needed to stick with the here and now. Or there and then, I supposed.

“It looks that w-” I cut off, as a young man stepped forward from beside Kronos. My eyes had been drawn so thoroughly to the Titan, that I had somehow overlooked him. “My lord,” he said warningly. I looked around, trying to find who he was warning Kronos of. I spotted younger versions of Percy, Annabeth, and Grover, looking scared, but determined.

Ah. This must be when the final battle with Kronos had taken place. I recalled now how we gods had raced here after defeating Typhon, determined to defend our thrones, hoping that we weren’t too late… only to find a satyr, two injured demigods, and one dead child of Hermes instead. We never were able to find out the details. Zeus didn’t care much for a full report. I’d love to attribute that to him recognizing how much Percy, Annabeth, and Grover needed to grieve quietly and not wanting to press them, but I knew the truth. He didn’t want to dwell on how mortals had had to defend our thrones, our very existence. Even worse, they had defeated an enemy that we had struggled with. Sometimes it seemed like every decision that my father made either tied back to his inability to stop himself from chasing every pretty girl that crossed his path, or his desire to avoid looking weak.

I was curious on how exactly those three had managed to defeat Kronos, but even as I looked forwards to seeing exactly what happened, a knot formed in my stomach. My last two ventures into memories - first my own, then Percy’s - had resulted in me learning some uncomfortable truths, or in some cases, accepting some uncomfortable truths I had always known, but had tried to push down. I did not regret learning those truths - I REFUSED to ignore other’s pain anymore - but it made me wary of what I’d be forced to face this time. I doubted that whatever force decided when and what flashbacks to present would give me a break. I only hoped that my companions were spared any more pain. The first flashback into my memories had shaken Meg deeply. I wished to be the only one negatively affected by these experiences.

Looking over at our Annabeth, still staring at Kronos, barely breathing, I doubted that the universe would fulfill my wish.

“Shall I destroy you first, Jackson?” Kronos asked. He sounded mocking, almost bored. “Is that the choice you will make - to fight me and die instead of bowing down? Prophecies never end well, you know.”

“Hey!” I interjected. I knew how painful prophecies could be, but I couldn’t let this stand. I was the god of prophecy, after all. “A lot of prophecies sound worse than they-”

“Shh!” Meg exclaimed, clapping a hand over my mouth while glaring at me fiercely. Percy was talking. I’d missed the first part due to my interruption. “-you don’t have his skill.”

I may have missed the first portion of that statement, but I knew a challenge when I heard it. Kronos sneered, morphing his scythe into a sword. Ah. Percy had been clever. Get Kronos to use a weapon that Percy had more experience with, rather than one where he didn’t have a clue what fighting style to expect.

past!Annabeth gasped. “Percy, the blade!” she called. “ _The hero’s soul, cursed blade shall reap_.” I wasn’t sure what she had figured out about the prophecy. I liked to pretend that I understood more about what prophecies meant than I actually did. This had the unfortunate side effect of meaning that I couldn’t just ask around about how a prophecy was fulfilled exactly, for fear of looking dumb. I’d never found out what exactly every part of the Great Prophecy referred to, nor the Prophecy of Seven. I made a mental note to ask about the Prophecy of Seven later. I had a guess as to how it was fulfilled, but it would be nice to have confirmation.

“Wait!” past!Annabeth yelled as Kronos raised his new sword. I had no idea why she thought Kronos would obey her, but considering all that she had accomplished, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had had a trick up her sleeve. Alas, she didn’t. Kronos whirled, a maelstrom of steel and Celestial bronze. Percy managed to fend him off, though I didn’t know for how long he could keep that up. Meanwhile, the young man who accompanied Kronos engaged Annabeth. I wished I could remember his name, but as much as I wracked my brain, nothing came up.

Kronos backed Percy up against Hephaestus’s throne. As Kronos slashed at Percy, determined to cut him in two, Percy leaped upwards onto the seat. “Get off there!” I yelled, forgetting for a moment that this was a memory. I heard the tell-tale whirring and clicking of the throne’s defenses being engaged. Luckily, Percy heard them too. He leaped off of the throne and over Kronos’s head, clearing the seat just before it let out a blast of electricity. Kronos wasn’t so lucky. One hit him in the face, causing him to fall to his knees and drop his sword.

I didn’t cheer. No way it was this easy.

past!Annabeth kicked her own opponent out of the way and ran towards Kronos. “Luke, listen!”

Luke. That was the name of the man whose body Kronos had stolen. I remembered now. He had helped start up the Second Titan War, recruiting demigods and lowering the Camp’s defenses by poisoning Thalia’s tree. More importantly, he was the one who had dragged my sister over to Annabeth as she struggled under the weight of the sky, forcing her to either take up the burden, or leave a maiden to die. I waited for the surge of anger that usually accompanied that memory. It never came. I was still unhappy with him for all the pain he had put my sister and the demigods through, but I appreciated his reasons better now.

But Luke was gone. Only Kronos remained. He flicked his hand, sending past!Annabeth flying across the room. She hit her mother’s throne and crumpled to the ground.

“Annabeth!” Percy screamed. 

Annabeth’s former opponent got to his feet, standing in Percy’s path. Percy would have to go through him to get to Annabeth. I almost felt sorry for his opponent.

Grover played his music for all it was worth. Grass sprang up in the throne room, roots creeping up the marble. I wasn’t sure what he was trying to accomplish, but I hope he’d finish it soon. I doubted that he would get much time.

Kronos got up off the floor, though he still couldn’t stand. Instead he kneeled, attempting to call his sword to him. It didn’t move.

“Nakamura!” he groaned (ah, so THAT’S what his ally’s name was! … I still didn’t remember him.) “Time to prove yourself. You know Jackson’s secret weakness. Kill him, and you will have rewards beyond measure.” 

His secret weakness? I was about to ask, though I felt like I SHOULD know what it was, when Meg beat me to it. “What secret weakness?”

Annabeth dropped her gaze to Meg, looking relieved to think about something besides whatever had been bothering her for the last few minutes. “Percy had the Achilles’ curse. He was invulnerable everywhere except for one spot, but a strike at that spot would kill him.”

She finished speaking just in time. Percy started reasoning with Nakamura. If I’d been a god, I would’ve said it was a lost cause, that he was wasting his breath trying to talk out the situation with someone who had already sided with the baby-god-swallower Kronos. Since I’d been human, though, I’d tried that approach myself. Sometimes it had even worked. I hoped that Percy had the same luck.

“Look around you, Ethan. The end of the world. Is this the reward you want? DO you really want everything destroyed - the good with the bad?  _Everything_?”

That wasn’t ENTIRELY accurate. Kronos wanted to destroy Western civilization as we know it, putting himself as ruler. But he didn’t want to destroy the world, or even humanity. In that respect, he was better than Gaea. Barely. But I didn’t think that Percy cared for semantics. It would be the end of the world as HE knew it at least. Especially since he, his friends, and most especially, Annabeth and his mother would almost certainly not live to see the sun rise on Kronos’s world.

While Percy was talking, Grover had inched his way to Annabeth, the roots growing thicker, until they were nearly a foot tall. Ethan seemed distracted, mulling over what Percy had said.

“There is not throne to Nemesis,” Ethan muttered. “No throne to my mother.”

“That’s right!” Kronos called, attempting to stoke the flames of Ethan’s vengeance. “Strike them down! They deserve to suffer.”

Not that Percy was giving up that easily. “You said your mom is the goddess of balance. The minor gods deserve better, Ethan, but total destruction isn’t  _balance_. Kronos doesn’t build. He only destroys.”

Ethan looked around, taking in the destruction that had ALREADY been wrought. I held my breath. The next minute would determine where this conflict went. Ethan swayed a little to Grover’s song, and then blinked. 

He charged… but not at Percy. He charged at Kronos, swinging his sword at Kronos’s neck. I wanted to cheer, but I knew it couldn’t be THAT easy. Sure enough, his sword broke, a shard of it piercing his own armor.

Kronos stood up, his face a mask of fury. “Treason,” he snarled.

Grover kept right on playing, covering Ethan with grass. I presumed that he was either trying to hide Ethan, or trying to give him some protection. There was no way it would work - ultimately it was just grass, and Kronos was a Titan - but I knew he had to try. I knew a thing or two about trying to save people, even though it was hopeless. Even though I had already failed.

“Deserve better,” Ethan gasped, trying to impart a last message to Percy. I went very, very still, reminded of another demigod who had tried to drill in a message in his last moments. ““If they just… had thrones-”

Kronos stomped his foot down beside Ethan, shattering the floor. I watched numbly as the son of Nemesis tumbled through the open air down to Olympus. My mind replayed his last message. He wanted thrones for the minor gods. Recognition. Respect. That was all. We could have done that earlier, way, WAY earlier. But we chose not to. While some of us had campaigned for certain gods to be given thrones - especially our own children, or ones we’d imbued with divinity in the first place - few of us cared about giving recognition beyond our own chosen ones. We were proud and selfish like that. It had taken Percy strong-arming the gods to agree to even that small a concession, that small a recognition that they were gods too, and deserved to be treated as such. 

Kronos smiled while looking at the hole he had created, amused by Ethan’s impending death. “So much for him.” He raised his head, resting his gaze on Percy, Annabeth, and Grover. His smile widened. “And now for the rest of you.”

Grover had made his way over to Annabeth while Kronos was busy disposing of Ethan, and was currently feeding her ambrosia. It was helping, but she was clearly not going to be back to full fighting shape for several more hours at least.

The roots Grover had summoned wrapped around Kronos’s feet, but he ignored them. They would have to be a lot stronger to even inconvenience Kronos to a notable degree.

Kronos and Percy fought through Hestia’s hearth, kicking up coals. Only small sparks remained in the Hearth, not enough to hurt either Kronos or Percy. We came so, SO close to disappearing, to the flame of Olympus being snuffed out forever. Kronos lopped off the armrest of Ares’ throne (I cringed slightly at that, imagining my own glorious throne being abused that way) and backed Percy up against his dad’s throne. “Oh, yes,” Kronos cried, savoring his impending victory. “This one will make fine kindling for my new hearth!”

They fought, blades clashing wildly. Percy got in one good hit, cutting a gash through Kronos’s armor, but not piercing his skin. Percy was a truly EXCELLENT fighter. I feared that it wouldn’t be enough.

Kronos stamped his foot, slowing time to a crawl. Percy moved in slow motion, vulnerable. Kronos could have killed him right then, but luckily for Percy, he was the type to brag and monologue. If he had been Caligula or Nero, the fight would already have been over. The more powerful someone is, the stronger their power over their opponent, the more stupid and careless they tended to be. They refused to take their weaker opponents seriously. Gods, Titans, Giants, Monsters - we were just as susceptible to arrogance and hubris as any mortal. And when it catches up to us, we fall just as hard.

“It’s too late, Percy Jackson. Behold.”

He pointed towards the hearth, the coals glowing at his command. I hated to see my aunt’s, HIS DAUGHTER’S hearth under his control. It was a violation of who she is, of what is. This was her home, the home of all us Olympians. He had no right to control the flame.

Nevertheless, white smoke erupted from the coals, forming into images. Nico, Sally Jackson, and a man I didn’t recognize fought off enemies together, though from their numbers, I doubted they could keep it up much longer. Hades fought behind them, summoning zombies, fighting Kronos’s army with his own. Even with his efforts, Kronos’s army kept pressing forwards, inch by inch. Manhattan fared badly, mortals running in a panic, cars smashing into one another. While no one was specifically targeting them, Kronos’s forces weren’t trying to avoid them either. I heard many humans screaming in pain and fear. Some were too far gone for that, simply laying limply on the ground as they were tread over by dozens of feet. If they weren’t dead before, they were now.

Such sights were not new to me. I’d watched scenes like this, and many scenes even bloodier, from this very hearth. But after all I’d witnessed and experienced, it made my stomach churn. How could I have once ENJOYED this carnage, this suffering?

The scene shifted, showing a different scene of destruction. This one more familiar. After all, I had been part of it.

A pillar of storm approached Hudson Bay.  Gleaming chariots encircled it, tiny figures letting loose flashes of light. I spotted the tell-tale streaks of my golden arrows and my sister’s silver arrows, firing into the vortex and exploding. Slowly the cloud parted. Panic coursed through me as I looked into Typhon’s hideous face, his horrible visage morphing constantly. Once I caught a glimpse of amber snake eyes flecked with gold. 

“The Olympians are giving their final effort,” Kronos laughed derisively, sneering at the image. “How pathetic.”

Zeus threw a thunderbolt at Typhon, sending a blinding light throughout the world. I shuddered. When he had thrown that bolt during the fight, I had panicked and thought it was meant for me, for just a moment. I had known that Zeus wouldn’t be so stupid as to punish me during such a fight, not while so much was at stake, but fear isn’t always rational. Even now I flinched at the sight, fearing a shock I knew in my head wouldn’t come. That didn’t stop my heart from hammering. 

Meg seemed to notice my distress. She took my hand and squeezed slightly. I took several shaky breaths. Everything was fine. Or would be fine. This had already happened. Zeus was fighting an enemy, not searing my essence.

The smoke cleared. Typhon staggered slightly, but remained standing. That had been Zeus’s strongest attack, the strongest of any of us. We were doomed.

Yet we had survived. How?

Someone had come. Someone had helped. I squinted at image, trying to discern each of the combatants. Someone was missing. Someone who came later…

Typhon stepped into the Hudson River, the water not even coming up to his knees.

A conch horn blew. Not my favorite instrument, but now it was music to my ears.

The Hudson River erupted around Typhon, churning out massive waves. Poseidon burst out of the water on his chariot, his aura glowing a brilliant blue. He swung his trident, ordering the water to form into a massive funnel around Typhon.

“No, NO!” Kronos yelled in shock and horror. I savored his expression.

“NOW, MY BRETHREN! STRIKE FOR OLYMPUS!” Poseidon bellowed, his sea-green eyes gleaming, his raven hair shimmering with water droplets. I looked back at Percy’s own, oh-so-similar features. Seeing Percy’s relieved and proud expression, a suspicion niggled at the back of my mind. He had been hoping for this.

“Annabeth,” I asked slowly, a smirk spreading across my face. “What convinced Poseidon to finally help?”

“Percy climbed onto his father’s throne a few hours before this in the hope that he could talk to his father that way and ask him to help fight Typhon. The Seaweed Brain had started smoking by the time he got down. 

I was surprised that Poseidon hadn’t instinctively incinerated Percy the instant his butt touched the seat. If Thalia had tried that trick, I doubted that Zeus would have shown the same restraint.

Percy had been partially responsible for even our victory over Typhon. Of course he’d helped out by doing something that could easily have gotten him killed, and then argued with a god, an act that could ALSO have gotten him killed if his father had been touchier. He was just as suicidally brave as Jason had been, for daring to argue with Zeus.

Poseidon’s army burst out of the water, surrounding Typhon. Leading the charge was a large Cyclops that looked vaguely familiar. “Tyson!” Percy yelled. I blinked. Percy’s younger brother? He was about five times taller than he normally was and covered in battle armor. I may normally have hated Cyclopes, but I was glad to see Tyson and his brethren. 

The Cyclopes ensnared Typhon with the long black chains they wielded. He roared and struggled, but eventually he fell. Poseidon threw his trident, impaling him in the throat. Ichor spewed from his neck, a geyser of gold.

All us gods struck at Typhon while he was down. This had been the first real opening we’d had. We had doubted that we’d get another. I grinned like a loon as I stared at Artemis. She shot him in the eye with a dozen silver arrows, blinding him. I was just happy to get a good view of my sister again. 

Meg let out a loud guffaw. I followed her gaze to where she was looking. I began laughing too. I’d forgotten that I’d managed to set Typhon’s loincloth on fire. 

Finally, Poseidon opened up a portal to Tartarus, sending Typhon down into the depths of the abyss. 

“BAH!” Kronos screamed. He slashed his sword through the smoke, dismissing the image. 

“They’re on their way,” Percy taunted. “You’ve lost.”

“I haven’t even started,” Kronos replied, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

He ran at Percy. Grover threw himself into his path in an effort to protect Percy, but Kronos simply tossed him to the side. Grover was a GREAT protector. I silently promised myself to give him something nice when all this was over, if I became a god again.

Kronos and Percy continued dueling. Less than a minute in, and Kronos disarmed Percy, sending Riptide clattering across the floor and into one of the fissures of the floor.

I knew that Riptide would reappear in Percy’s pocket in a minute or so. Unfortunately, it didn’t look like he HAD a minute. Not for the first time, I wondered how Percy had survived this. 

“STOP!” past!Annabeth yelled again. I hoped that she had a better plan this time. I certainly had no ideas on what those three could’ve done to even survive the next few minutes, much less defeat Kronos.

Wait… those three defeat Kronos? That didn’t sound quite right. Someone else had intervened.

Kronos whirled around, slashing at Annabeth with his sword. Annabeth caught the strike on her dagger hilt. I whistled in admiration. That was a TRICKY move to pull off.

She stepped closer to the Titan, blades locked together. “Luke. I understand now. You have to trust me.” She said through gritted teeth.

Was she really relying on Luke breaking free from Kronos’s control? That seemed like a shaky proposition. Even if he did, what if he decided not to help them? He’d tried to kill them before.

Kronos roared back at her. “Luke Castellan is dead! His body will burn away as I assume my true form!” I thought I detected an undercurrent of fear in his voice. And his expression… he was lying.

HE WAS LYING

Annabeth’s plan might work!

Kronos pushed back on their locked blades. Inch by inch, his blade came closer to Annabeth’s neck. 

“Your mother,” Annabeth grunted, straining to hold him back. “She saw your fate.”

“Service to Kronos! This is my fate.”

I caught the change immediately. This is MY fate. This wasn’t Kronos talking, not entirely. Luke was there! She was reaching him!

“No!” Annabeth’s past self cried, tears filling her eyes. I heard a quiet sob from beside me. I looked at our Annabeth. Tear tracks stained her cheeks as she stared at the scene, not daring to miss a moment. I wanted to comfort her, but I had a feeling that this scene would have to finish first. 

past!Annabeth continued talking to Luke, trying to draw him out. “That’s not the end, Luke. The prophecy: she saw what you would do. It applies to you!”

What was she talking about? I turned the Great Prophecy over in my head.

_A half-blood of the eldest gods_

_Shall reach sixteen against all odds_

_And see the world in endless sleep_

_The hero’s soul, cursed blade shall reap_

_A single choice shall end his days_

_Olympus to preserve or raze_

I nearly smacked myself over the head. The prophecy didn’t SAY that the half-blood of the eldest gods was the hero! It could be anyone! Though Annabeth seemed convinced it was Luke.

I frowned. it definitely LOOKED like Luke had chosen to raze Olympus. Yet it still stood. 

Then again, it said that ‘a single choice shall end his days’. Perhaps his choice would come just before he was set to die? 

And a third question… what was the cursed blade?

“I will crush you, child!” Kronos roared.

“You won’t,” Annabeth replied, resolving sounding through her voice. “You promised. You’re holding back Kronos even now.”

Promised what? I glanced at our Annabeth again. She barely seemed to be stopping herself from sinking to the floor. I resolved to ask her later, delicately. I had a feeling that she would NEED to talk about all this, even if she didn’t WANT to.

“LIES!” Kronos screamed, pushing her harder. Annabeth lost her balance. Seizing the opening, Kronos  struck her across the face, sending her skidding backwards. Images of Piper being struck by Incinatus’s hoof flooded my mind. I rushed over to past!Annabeth, checking her for breathing. I breathed a sigh of relief when I found it, and then felt very silly. Annabeth had obviously survived, because she was in here with us. Somehow, I couldn’t make myself quite believe that.

Kronos loomed over Annabeth, sword raised. As blood trickled out of her mouth, she found the strength to croak, “Family, Luke. You promised.”

Kronos staggered, staring at the knife Annabeth was holding, then at the blood dripping from her face. “ _Promise_ ,” he murmured. It wasn’t Kronos’s voice. 

He started gasping for air, as if he had just surfaced from a long stint underwater. “Annabeth…” Luke continued, stumbling forwards, as if he didn’t quite have control over his own limbs. “You’re bleeding…”

“My knife,” Annabeth attempted to raise her dagger, though I wasn’t sure why. She was in no shape to take on the Titan. The knife clattered out of her hand and onto the floor. She looked over at Percy imploringly. “Percy, please…”

Per y rushed forwards, picking up the knife as he went. He knocked Luke’s sword out his hands. He barely seemed to notice, much less care. He stepped closer to Annabeth, but Percy intervened.

“Don’t touch her.”

Kronos’s voice growled. “Jackson…” Then he gasped, and his voice turned back to Luke’s. “He’s changing. Help. He’s… he’s almost ready. He won’t need my body anymore. Please-”

“NO!” Kronos bellowed. He looked around for his sword, spotting it in the hearth. Percy tried to stop him, but Kronos knocked him roughly to the side, causing his head to clang against Athena’s throne. I winced. He’d probably have a concussion after that, and with both him AND Annabeth in such bad shape, I didn’t know how they could possibly defeat him, unless Grover pulled off a miracle. 

“The knife, Percy,” Annabeth muttered, barely clinging to consciousness. “Hero… cursed blade…”

Then it clicked. Luke was the hero. The cursed blade was Annabeth’s knife, though I didn’t know HOW it was cursed. And as for the choice…

Suddenly I heard a scream of pain. Looking at Kronos, I saw that he had attempted to pull his sword from the hearth. I say ‘attempted’ because somehow the barely-lit flame in the hearth had started burning vigorously, heating up the sword and the coals until they glowed red. Judging by his burnt and blistered hands, he had foolishly attempted to pick it up. 

An image of Hestia flickered in the ashes, frowning at Kronos disapprovingly. I grinned. Just because Hestia wasn’t a fighter, didn’t mean she couldn’t help out. 

Luke turned away from the hearth and collapsed to floor. “Please, Percy…” he begged.

Percy struggled to his feet, still carrying Annabeth’s knife. He advanced towards Luke, killing intent filling his eyes.

Luke read his expression. “You can’t… can’t do it yourself. He’ll break my control. He’ll defend himself. Only my hand. I know where. I can… can keep him controlled.

Luke glowed, similarly to how I tended to whenever I was getting emotional. There wasn’t much time. Kronos would assume his divine form soon. Whatever decision Percy made, he’d have to make it quickly.

Percy raised the knife, ignoring Luke’s words. Then he glanced over at Annabeth, realization stealing over his face.

“Please,” Luke groaned. “No time.”

Percy hesitated, then turned the knife around, presenting the hilt to Luke. He took it carefully.

Grover yelped. “Percy? Are you… um…”

I filled in the rest myself.  _Are you really listening to this guy? If he betrays you again, the world’s doomed._

Luke unstrapped the armor on his side, exposing his left armpit.

His hand shaking as he did his best to maintain control, Luke stabbed himself. He howled in pain, his eyes glowing, his skin shining brighter and brighter. For a heartbeat I thought it was too late. Then the light died down. Luke remained on the floor, dying, but fully himself.

A loud sob echoed from behind me. Our Annabeth furiously wiped her tears, but they just kept pouring down. I gingerly put my arm around her, wanting to offer some degree of comfort, but unsure how she’d take the gesture. She didn’t acknowledge my existence, continuing to watch Luke with bloodshot, puffy eyes. These were his last moments. As painful as they were, I could understand why she didn’t want to miss any of them.

Luke’s eyes cracked open, revealing a brilliant blue. For an instant I was catapulted back to Caligula’s ships, seeing another blond-haired, blue eyed young man dying in front of me.

“Good… blade,” he croaked. 

Luke stared at Annabeth. “You knew. I almost killed you, but you knew… 

“Shh. You were a hero at the end, Luke. You’ll go to Elysium.”

He did. Normally he probably wouldn’t have made it that far - heroic last deeds are great and all, but they DO judge the rest of the person’s life - but Hermes insisted, and Hades was in a good enough mood to agree to his request.

Hermes… something niggled at me. A lump of guilt swelled in my chest, though I didn’t know why. There was something I’d overlooked, something I’d ignored. I couldn’t quite place it though. No matter. If it made me feel this bad, then it would almost certainly come up later in this flashback.  

Luke shook his head at Annabeth. “Think… rebirth. Try for three times. Isles of the Blest.”

He wasn’t being greedy. He wanted to prove that he was a good person and right the mistakes of his past. I could empathize with that. 

Annabeth sniffled. “You always pushed yourself too hard.”

“Did you… did you love me?”

“There was a time I thought… well I thought…”

She looked around, as if realizing that she was still here, still alive. “You were like a brother to me, Luke,” she said softly. “But I didn’t love you.”

 He nodded, looking unsurprised, then winced in pain.

“We can get ambrosia,” Grover chimed in. “We can-”

I knew the truth, as did Luke. “Grover. You’re the bravest satyr I ever knew. But no. There’s no healing…”

He coughed again. I could sense his life coming to a close. He only had a couple minutes left. 

He gripped Percy’s sleeve, desperate. “Ethan. Me. All the unclaimed. Don’t let it… don’t let it happen again.”

Percy looked down at Luke, sad, but resolved. “I won’t. I promise.”

_I promise_.

Another promise made to a dying man, a plea to the living to try and make the world a better place, to continue the work that they could not. This was why Percy had made his wish - no, his demands. He was trying to fulfill Luke’s dying wish, to keep his promise. Luke and Jason… they may have been different in many ways, but both of them had attempted to change how demigods and gods acted for the better. Both had passed the torch on to someone else to complete what they had started. Percy had fulfilled his promise to the best of his ability. I would have to fulfill mine.

Luke nodded. His face went slack. He died quietly, the air punctuated with quiet sobs.

Minutes later, all of us Olympians came bursting into the throne room, ready for a fight. Instead we found three grieving teenagers and one dead demigod, sprawled out on the ground. 

Poseidon was the first to speak. “Percy… What… what is this?”

Percy stood up, turning to face all the gods. “We need a shroud,” he declared, his voice cracking. “A shroud for the son of Hermes.”

I remembered how I had felt the first time bursting into the room. I’d been afraid it was too late, and I had almost imagined that I could feel myself weakening. Then we had actually arrived. I watched myself take in the scene, relief breaking across my godly self’s face. I didn’t know what had happened, and frankly, at that moment, I didn’t care. The conflict was over, the threat dealt with. It was in the past now, so there was no need to worry about it.

Others were more affected. As the Three Fates gathered up Luke’s body, summoning a shroud to cover him in, Hermes stepped forwards. “Wait,” he called. I heard George and Martha quietly murmuring, “ _Luke, poor Luke_.”

Hermes slowly approached his fallen son, the hero who had made many, many bad choices, but who had chosen to save Olympus, to save his  _family_ , in the end. I was under no illusion that he cared for us gods, but the way he and Annabeth had looked at each other… they had chosen to be family. Almost killing her had been the final straw. As much as Luke hated us gods, his love for Annabeth, his desire to protect her, had overridden even Kronos’s control. As a god, when I’d first found out about Luke siding with Kronos and recruiting demigods to his cause, I had dismissed them as simply being bad people. Now I could see more nuance. There were reasons behind the rebellion, reasons I had refused to acknowledge for fear of upsetting my worldview. Now I was more open to listening. I also wished to uphold the promise Percy had made. This would NOT happen again.

Hermes knelt by Luke’s side, gently unwrapping his face and kissing his forehead, murmuring a final blessing to his beloved fallen son.

“Farewell,” he whispered. He stepped back, allowing the Three Fates to take Luke’s body to its final resting place.

past!Annabeth’s knees finally gave out, the stress, exhaustion, and pain of the day catching up with her. Percy caught her before she could hit the ground. Unfortunately, he’d grabbed her by her broken arm, causing her to scream in pain.

“Oh gods,” he said, his eyes wide. “Annabeth, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right,” she replied. Then she passed out. It reminded me of how I had passed out after the prophecy had been extracted from Meg back in Indiana. She could afford to pass out now, so her body had promptly done so.

“She needs help!” Percy cried, panicked.

“I got this,” I heard a familiar (and oh-so-handsome-sounding) voice replied. I watched my godly self step forwards, smiling brilliantly.

Ah, right - I’d forgotten that I had helped. I tensed. Last time I had remembered helping, I had forgotten what a jerk, what an utterly STUPID asshole I had been. I expected more of the same.  

I was pleasantly surprised. “God of medicine, at your service.” My godly self passed his hand over Annabeth’s face, instantly healing both her smaller injuries, such as cuts and bruises, and her larger ones, such as the broken arm. Annabeth adjusted in her sleep, looking far more comfortable.

My past self grinned. “She’ll be fine in a few minutes. Just enough time for me to compose a poem about our victory. ‘Apollo and his friends save Olympus’. Good eh?”

I couldn’t help it. I snorted. Beside me, Meg started giggling.

“Thanks, Apollo,” Percy replied, clearly bemused. “I’ll, um, let you handle the poetry.”

At that, our quiet chortling grew into full-blown laughter. Even our Annabeth joined in the laughter, her eyes still watering with grief at what she had relived. It was just SUCH a mood whiplash, my future self cheerfully healing Annabeth, pretending that he had largely been responsible for saving Olympus, and declaring that he would write a victory poem. It was so silly, so far removed from the somber atmosphere of the room. It was exactly what we had needed after witnessing Kronos’s defeat and the deaths of Ethan and Luke. 

For the first time in a while, I saw some value in the silly arrogant facade I had displayed to the world. Perhaps I didn’t need to throw away that side of myself entirely in order to be a good person and keep my promises to my fallen friends. Lightening spirits helps people cope with even the most miserable tragedies. I thought back to how Leo coped with stress by acting sillier than usual and cracking jokes, breaking people out of their misery and redirecting them from their worries. He had had the right idea. 

But there was time for humor, and there was time for serious talk. Now, while the gods were milling about and Percy was looking after the unconscious past!Annabeth, was the best time to finally talk with her.

I looked at her carefully, trying to find the best way to broach the subject of what we had just witnessed. I didn’t wish to upset her, both because she’d been through enough, and because she could easily drop-kick me into next week if she so chose. There’s a reason why I referred to her as “the blond scary one.” 

Turns out I didn’t need to. Perhaps Annabeth had sensed my questions, or simply needed to get things off her chest, because she started explaining.

“When I was seven, I ran away from home. My stepmother never liked me that much, and she never believed me about spiders crawling into my bed at night. I had only been on the run for a few days when I ran across Luke and Thalia.” She smiled fondly at the memory, chuckling. “I’d run across lots of monsters, but had managed to evade them. When I heard people moving around in the warehouse I was hiding in, I thought they were monsters. I hid until they got close and then leaped out, trying to bang whatever creature it was with the hammer I had found. I nearly took Luke’s head off. They said they were monster hunters. Luke gave me that dagger, saying that I could be a part of his and Thalia’s family, that they wouldn’t fail me like our families had failed us. That’s what cursed the knife. Luke broke that promise.”

I swallowed thickly, keenly aware of all the gods - myself and my brethren - milling about the room. We had failed Luke, Thalia, and Annabeth. We had failed our children as a whole. Annabeth didn’t even sound upset or judgmental. It was simply a statement of fact.

I steeled my resolve. I had to know. 

“Why did Luke turn against the gods? Why did so many join him? Tell me how we failed. Tell me what we refused to see. Please.”

Annabeth was quiet for a moment, searching for words. Hesitantly she said, “I’m not sure of all the details on how and why Luke turned, and all the demigods had their own reasons. But they boiled down to this, as far as I know: 

Luke blamed Hermes for not trying to help cure his mom’s insanity, for not helping to protect and comfort her when she flew into her insane fits. In short, for never BEING there. I’m not sure what caused him to shift his view of the gods from being negligent, to being flat-out evil. Maybe it was just seeing all of his friends and family at Camp being ignored. Luke was at Camp Half-Blood for five YEARS before he turned, Apollo, and he was camp counselor of the largest cabin for most of that. So many kids arrived who never got claimed. They arrived, hoping to have a parent, to at least be ACKNOWLEDGED. But most of them didn’t get that. Their divine parents didn’t CARE enough about them to even acknowledge their existence. That’s why so many half-bloods wanted to go on quests, even though it was dangerous. It wasn’t for ‘glory’ - well, not for most of them, at least. It was in the hope of finally having their divine parent acknowledge them and say they’re proud of them. The children of minor gods had it even worse. Very few of their parents even bothered to claim them, since they’d have to stay in the Hermes cabin anyway. For them, it wasn’t only THEMSELVES who were ignored, but their parents too. That’s why so many minor gods and demigods rebelled - they thought it was the only way to stop being ignored, to be treated like they MATTER, even if only as an enemy.”

So that was it. I couldn’t even pretend to be surprised. I’d been told this before, I KNEW this. It was part of why I was always prompt on claiming my kids (so long as I remembered that I’d had them), why I rarely gave them quests that were too terribly dangerous, and why I showed them I was there and that I cared about them, even if just by visiting in their dreams. 

But it wasn’t enough. I had taken care of my own children, but had turned my eyes from all the other demigods’ plights. It took the demigods standing up for themselves and demanding better in order for change to be enacted.

I glanced over at Meg, who suddenly found her shoes utterly fascinating. I remembered her questions about her mother, asking why Demeter had never shown up, had never tried to help her or father. At the time I was only thinking of her case. But she wasn’t the only demigod who had lost their mortal parent, or had run away from them, had discovered that they had a godly parent, and yet that parent didn’t even care enough to claim them as their offspring. I thought back to when I had first met the small garbage waif, thinking that she might be a feral demigod, with no training, no parents, no friends, no family, no support network to speak of. At the time I pondered the idea in a detached kind of way. Now it seemed utterly horrifying. Had I really been so callous, not seeing how messed up it was that a twelve-year-old had no parents and no support, even while monsters hunted her due to who one of her parents was?

How many other ways had I closed my eyes to the world?

“I’m sorry,” I said at last. “I should have pushed for all the demigods’ parents to claim them sooner. I should have made sure that cabins were available for all the children of the gods, not just us Olympians. I should have taken a more proactive role in guiding all demigods to safety, instead of just concentrating on my own children. I know this isn’t worth much now, since Percy already took care of it pretty well, but I’ll try to hold the other gods to their promise, along with keeping it myself, of course. There will be no more Ethans or Lukes.”

Annabeth looked up at me and gave a small nod. 

Meg broke the silence. “What promise?”

Ah yes. Meg wouldn’t know, would she? “Well you see-”

The world blurred around us, fast-forwarding. When it resolved, we were still in the throne room, but all the gods were sitting down, thrones fully repaired.

“It seems that you’ll get to see for yourself,” I told my young protector.

past!Annabeth was back to full health. She strode over to where Percy was standing. She leaned in close so she could whisper to him. Being the busybody I was, scooted over towards them so i could overhear.”Miss much?” she whispered into his ear. 

“Nobody’s planning to kill us, so far,” he whispered back.

Why would he think we might plan to kill them? Why would we kill heroes who had helped save… oh. Right.

Several years ago, after sis was kidnapped and then rescued, we had the winter solstice summit. We debated killing Percy and Thalia to prevent the Great Prophecy from coming true. None of us actually voted FOR killing them thankfully, but it was still a serious consideration. I voted against killing them, but thought that Artemis was freaking out a bit too much when she yelled at the council for considering killing the demigods and saying that she would reward them. Now I saw why she reacted that way. 

My eyes wandered over to my sister, sitting majesticly in her silver throne. I held back a sob. I’d seen her earlier when the gods first came bursting in, but had focused on the issues at hand. Now though I kept on staring at her. My wonderful, brilliant sister - she’d seen what I had refused to, understood what I had only started learning as a mortal. She understood the value in mortals, understood them AS PEOPLE, and not only as subjects.

As Zeus droned on, Meg approached me. She didn’t say anything, but her expression looked sad, and kind of nervous. Once she noticed me watching her, she turned her gaze towards the thrones, searching. It finally rested on a throne made of apple-tree branches, and the goddess in it. She looked over at me. I answered her unspoken question.

“That’s your mother, Demeter.”

She stared at her mother quietly while Zeus declared the rewards that the various mortals and monsters would receive for their service in the Second Titan War.

After a couple minutes, she spoke, though I wasn’t sure whether it was intentional. She murmured to herself, “Mom… why didn’t you come for me? Dad loved you so much, but you didn’t help him. You didn’t help me. Everyone says you love me, but if you love me so much, why won’t you see me?”

Seeing her so downcast, my heart clenched. I wanted to give her some measure of comfort, so I did the only thing I could think of. Slowly, giving her plenty of room and time to pull away if she wished to, I wrapped her in a hug. She stiffened for a moment then relaxed. I thought I felt a small droplet of water on my side, where Meg was pressing her head. I didn’t comment, only pressing her more tightly to me. We stayed like that for several minutes, me offering what small amount of comfort I could.

At last she pulled away, surreptitiously wiping her face. I pretended not to notice, only giving her a small smile.

“PERCY JACKSON!” Poseidon bellowed. All of us jumped at that, directing our attention back to the Olympian Council.

Percy walked over to his father, kneeling at his feet.

“Rise, my son,” Poseidon declared. Looking around at the assembled council, he asked, “A great hero must be rewarded. Is there anyone who would deny that my son is deserving?”

Of course there were no dissenters.

“The council agrees,” Zeus confirmed. “Percy Jackson, you will have one gift from the gods.”

“Any gift?” he asked. 

At the time when this had first happened, I didn’t scrutinize his expression closely. I thought I knew what he was going to ask for, so why bother? 

This time I looked more closely. He seemed slightly confused, not understanding what was going on.

Zeus, naturally, made the same assumption that the rest of us did. “I know what you will ask. The greatest gift of all. Yes, if you want it, it shall be yours. The gods have not bestowed this gift on a mortal hero in many centuries, but, Perseus Jackson—if you wish it—you shall be made a god. Immortal. Undying. You shall serve as your father’s lieutenant for all time.”

Percy just stared at him, uncomprehending.  “Um … a god?”

Zeus rolled his eyes.  “A dimwitted god, apparently. But yes. With the consensus of the entire Council, I can make you immortal. Then I will have to put up with you forever.”

Ares seemed rather happy at that.  “Hmm,” he mused. “That means I can smash him to a pulp as often as I want, and he’ll just keep coming back for more. I like this idea.”

I snorted. Of COURSE that was the first thing he’d think of. Though I thought he was being overly optimistic. Percy bested him as a child with only a few weeks training. He was more likely to get smashed than Percy.

“I approve as well,” Athena added. I noticed that she was looking at Annabeth while she spoke, not Percy. I snorted. I had a distinct feeling that her agreement had less to do with her feeling that Percy was deserving, and more from her wanting to keep him away from her daughter. Well THAT had been successful.

Our Annabeth walked towards Percy, taking in his expression. He glanced back at past!Annabeth. Only then did I notice how devastated she looked. I could read that expression well enough, the expression of knowing you were about to lose someone close to you. I had worn it many times.

She’d really thought there was a chance she would lose him, that he would become a god and leave her forever. Power, immortality, eternal youth - who could deny an offer like that?

But I understood now. I still wanted to become a god, don’t get me wrong. But it was a RESPONSIBILITY now, rather than simply wishing to rid myself of the discomforts and terrors of mortality. I understood why Percy had made his choice.

I smirked slightly, knowing what was coming. This would be EPIC.

Percy looked Zeus right in the eyes. “No.”

Everyone fell silent, unable to believe what they were hearing. At last Zeus spoke, a dangerous edge to his voice.  “No? You are … turning down our generous gift?" 

I flinched at his tone. It usually meant pain for whoever it was directed at. But Percy didn’t seem overly intimidated.

"I’m honored and everything,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s just … I’ve got a lot of life left to live. I’d hate to peak in my sophomore year. I do want a gift, though. Do you promise to grant my wish?” 

Zeus pondered for a moment. I don’t know what he THOUGHT Percy was going to ask for, but he certainly didn’t anticipate the truth.  “If it is within our power,” he replied.

“It is,” Percy said. “And it’s not even difficult. But I need your promise on the River Styx." 

I was still AMAZED that Zeus agreed to Percy’s wish BEFORE finding out what it was. 

"What?” Dionysus cried. “You don’t trust us?” He sounded indignant. I laughed at that. Like MOST of us trusted each other. I could reasonably count on Hestia, Artemis, and Hermes when it counted. The rest of the Olympians? Not so much.

“Someone once told me,” Percy said, looking at Hades, “you should always get a solemn oath.” 

“Guilty,” he replied, shrugging. I had a feeling that there was a story behind that one. Maybe I’d get that later, but for now I focused on the scene in front of me.

“Very well!” Zeus growled. “In the name of the Council, we swear by the River Styx to grant your  _reasonable_  request as long as it is within our power.” 

At least he put in that stipulation. Though I had to wonder who decided what was reasonable.

Thunder boomed, sealing the oath. 

Percy finally asked for his reward, now that it was guaranteed that the council would have to grant it, so long as it was not unreasonable.  “From now on, I want to you properly recognize the children of the gods,” he said. “All the children … of  _all_  the gods.” 

All the Olympians shifted uncomfortably at that, including my own godly self. We didn’t like being confronted with how much we had messed up, and it looked like Percy was doing just that.

“Percy,” Poseidon asked, “what exactly do you mean?” 

“Kronos couldn’t have risen if it hadn’t been for a lot of demigods who felt abandoned by their parents,” Percy replied. “They felt angry, resentful, and unloved, and they had a good reason.” 

Zeus grew angry, his nostrils flaring. I was still amazed Percy got through this without some sort of punishment for his insolence.  “You dare accuse—”

Percy cut him off. I had thought that Jason defending me to Father was the most insane defiance a demigod had shown to Father in the past several millennia, but rewatching this, I was quickly reassessing that opinion.  “No more undetermined children. I want you to promise to claim your children—all your demigod children—by the time they turn thirteen. They won’t be left out in the world on their own at the mercy of monsters. I want them claimed and brought to camp so they can be trained right, and survive.”

“Now, wait just a moment,” my godly self interjected. I felt a brief stab of shame. I had objected to Percy telling us what to do. The fact that he was RIGHT only made things worse. Even then, I’d known that Percy’s request was a good one. I just didn’t want to acknowledge how BADLY we’d messed up for the past several thousand years, and that one of our children knew better than we did, and was braver than we were. Than I was. Privately I agreed with him, but I would never have had the courage to do what Percy was doing. 

Percy ignored my past self. A wise decision on his part. “And the minor gods,” he said. “Nemesis, Hecate, Morpheus, Janus, Hebe-—they all deserve a general amnesty and a place at Camp Half-Blood. Their children shouldn’t be ignored. Calypso and the other peaceful Titan-kind should be pardoned too. And Hades—”

“Are you calling me a _minor god_?” Hades bellowed. Honestly, he was SUCH a drama queen. Wouldn’t even wait for Percy to finish his sentence.

“No, my lord,” he said hurriedly. “But your children should not be left out. They should have a cabin at camp. Nico has proven that. No unclaimed demigods will be crammed into the Hermes cabin anymore, wondering who their parents are. They’ll have their own cabins, for all the gods. And no more pact of the Big Three. That didn’t work anyway. You’ve got to stop trying to get rid of powerful demigods. We’re going to train them and accept them instead. All children of the gods will be welcome and treated with respect. That is my wish.” 

It was a good request, one that should never have had to be made, and one which we STILL didn’t entirely follow through on. Calypso was never pardoned. None of us had pushed for it. It was on the bottom of the agenda, since her staying on her island was unlikely to cause us problems. I had a feeling that Artemis would have pushed for her release, but by the time we’d dealt with everything else Percy had asked for, Zeus was getting spooked by Gaea stirring, and Artemis didn’t want to upset him more than she had to. Watching over her Hunters was a higher priority than pushing for Calypso’s freedom.

Zeus snorted. “Is that all?” 

“Percy,” Poseidon warned, “you ask much. You presume much.” 

If he thought THAT would deter Percy, he CLEARLY hadn’t spent enough time watching his son.

“I hold you to your oath,” he said. “All of you.” 

The world suddenly distorted. For a moment I thought we were going to be pushed forwards in time again. Then the world resolved itself. I looked around, puzzled. Nothing appeared to have changed… and then I came face-to-face with Percy. Not younger Percy, OUR Percy. I calmly took stock of the situation and greeted him with a calm nod. Anyone who says that I yelled and jumped a foot in the air is CLEARLY lying and is attempting to slander my good name.

“Wha-?” He looked around, confused. “What is- ANNABETH?” He yelled, rushing towards her. “PERCY!” she cried. He gave her a fierce hug, separating from her a few moments later. 

“This is a flashback, isn’t it?” He asked her. “When I walked in, I saw you, Apollo, and Meg sitting next to each other. When I called your name and you didn’t respond, I panicked and ran over to check on you. I must’ve gotten sucked in when I touched you.”

She nodded, “Yes, it is. It started when… when we faced down Kronos in the throne room.” Her voice cracked. Percy looked at her, understanding spreading across his face. “Annabeth…”

Suddenly all of us were jerked towards the front of the throne room. It soon became apparent why. Annabeth, Percy, and all the other mortals were filing out of the throne room. We were forced to keep within a certain radius of the memory-holder it seemed. We followed them out of the palace.

Hermes stood in a sideyard, a melancholy expression on his face as he examined an iris message. past!Percy looked over at past!Annabeth.  “I’ll meet you at the elevator." 

A wave of disappointment washed over me. I’d wanted to see more of my little brother, but it seemed that we would be forced to go the other way. 

past!Annabeth studied his expression.  "You sure?” she studied his face. “Yeah, you’re sure.”

As Annabeth walked off, I followed her, sighing. Then I was jerked to a stop by an invisible leash. Confused, I looked back towards my brother and past!Percy. They had stayed put, along with Meg and the present Percy and Annabeth. 

Ah. When Percy entered the memory, control must have transferred over to him. I walked back over to Percy and Hermes, curious about what Percy would talk to him about. ‘Sorry I gave your son the means to commit suicide,’ is always an awkward conversation starter.

For a moment, I didn’t think Hermes had noticed Percy. Then he started talking.

“Amazing,” my brother said, turning towards Percy. “Three thousand years, and I will never get over the power of the Mist … and mortal ignorance.” 

“Thanks, I guess,” Percy replied, not seeming to know how to feel about that.

 "Oh, not you. Although, I suppose I should wonder, turning down immortality." 

"It was the right choice.” 

For him, it HAD been the right choice. He wanted to stay a part of the mortal world, to be with his friends and family… and his girlfriend, of course. As a god, there were so many rules and limits on what you could and could not do with mortals, so many expectations, that it would be difficult for him to be part of his loved ones’ lives the way he wanted to be, to BE there for them.

But it didn’t have to be. The only rules that prevented us from mingling with mortals, becoming part of their world, becoming close friends instead of simply having short affairs with mortals, were expectations from other gods, and rules handed down by Zeus. He didn’t like it when we became too close to mortals, ESPECIALLY if we treated them like equals. I always suspected that he didn’t want mortals to begin seeing us as equals, and by extension, seeing himself as being just a person, rather than a divine ruler who must be unquestioningly obeyed. Now I thought there was an additional angle. Keeping us from becoming too close to mortals, from becoming great friends with them, also limited our support networks to other gods, keeping it restricted mostly to our family. Zeus was able to keep a closer eye on us that way, than if we all had our own circles of mortal friends.

Maybe I was getting conspiratorial. Still, anything that increased Zeus’s level of control over us and his power overall had to be considered.

My brother looked over at Percy questioningly, but not unbelievingly. I was getting the feeling that he actually understood what Percy was talking about. I should have paid more attention to my little brother in recent decades. It seemed like he had started figuring things out that I had only begun to learn after being sent down as a mortal. “Look at them. They’ve already decided Typhon was a freak series of storms. Don’t I wish. They haven’t figured out how all the statues in Lower Manhattan got removed from their pedestals and hacked to pieces. They keep showing a shot of Susan B. Anthony strangling Frederick Douglass. But I imagine they’ll even come up with a logical explanation for that.”

 "How bad is the city?“

 Hermes shrugged. "Surprisingly, not too bad. The mortals are shaken, of course. But this is New York. I’ve never seen such a resilient bunch of humans. I imagine they’ll be back to normal in a few weeks; and of course I’ll be helping.” 

I had always been amazed at mortals’ ability to carry on with daily activities even something catastrophic had occurred, or was about to happen. As I lived as a mortal, however, I was beginning to understand. Those things were still worrying, but most mortals couldn’t afford to simply run off and mope and wail about how horrible and terrifying everything was. So instead they coped as best they could, continuing to act like normal. It made a weird amount of sense. Daily life carried on regardless.

Hermes WAS helpful in helping mortals make sense of the divine sorts of catastrophies though.

“You?” Percy asked. I suppose no one had informed him of Hermes role in this sort of thing.

“I’m the messenger of the gods. It’s my job to monitor what the mortals are saying, and if necessary, help them make sense of what’s happened. I’ll reassure them. Trust me, they’ll put this down to a freak earthquake or a solar flare. Anything but the truth.” 

I was startled by the bitterness in his voice. I hadn’t really paid much attention to how Hermes handled this aspect of his duties. Now I wished I had. I wanted to understand why he sounded like this. I had a sinking feeling that I had let down another brother, my most beloved little brother. 

Percy had more to say. “I owe you an apology.”

An apology? I didn’t even know that Hermes and Percy had talked before. 

Hermes seemed to know what Percy was talking about, but didn’t trust his apology. He gave Percy a cautious look.  “And why is that?”

“I thought you were a bad father. I thought you abandoned Luke because you knew his future and didn’t do anything to stop it.” 

Knew his future? How did he…?

Then I remembered. A woman Hermes had a fling with had attempted to become the Oracle. I had been happy that someone else had attempted it, hoping to finally have a new host. My old Oracle had already been dead for twenty years at that point. I had been disappointed when it did not take properly, but was not overly concerned beyond that. 

I should have paid attention. I should have gone to him, comforted him. I knew how much it hurt to have someone you love be broken, be killed. 

But I hadn’t. 

I’d failed him too.

May would have still gotten glimpses of the future. I surmised that Hermes had put together the pieces based on the pieces of her insane ramblings. He’d known what would befall his beloved child, and had kept the burden to himself. Who would he share it with? Who could he trust that much?

We really were one screwed-up family.

“I did know his future,” Hermes said miserably. 

I knew that tone of voice, that look on his face. It was the same one I wore whenever I thought of my role in Daphne’s and Hyacinthus’ deaths.

“But you knew more than just the bad stuff—that he’d turn evil. You understood what he would do in the end. You knew he’d make the right choice. But you couldn’t tell him, could you?” 

Hermes stared at the fountain. “No one can tamper with fate, Percy, not even a god. If I had warned him what was to come, or tried to influence his choices, I would’ve made things even worse. Staying silent, staying away from him … that was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” 

I knew better than anyone that you can’t change fate, that trying was folly. I’d had to watch horrible things happen to people I cared about. Even if you did somehow succeed, the consequences would be…

Some sort of mental block slammed down. A cold trickle of dread and guilt filled my stomach. There was something there. Something I didn’t want to remember. I knew I should try to break through it, try to break through the barrier, but I couldn’t bring myself to try. If even as a god I had blocked this out, how bad WAS it?

“Apollo?” Meg asked, her, Percy, and Annabeth giving me worried looks. I suddenly became aware of the sweat dripping down my face, of my ragged breathing. I composed myself, giving them a shaky smile. No point in worrying them. Besides, I needed to focus on Hermes. I needed to understand what my little brother had gone through. 

“You had to let him find his own path and play his part in saving Olympus." 

Hermes sighed. "I should not have gotten mad at Annabeth. When Luke visited her in San Francisco . . . well, I knew she would have a part to play in his fate. I foresaw that much. I thought perhaps she could do what I could not and save him. When she refused to go with him, I could barely contain my rage. I should have known better. I was really angry with myself.” 

I knew that feeling. It was easy to lash out when angry and scared. I had contemplated murdering the Seven when they came to visit me and Artemis on Delos, even though they weren’t at fault for the situation and were actively trying to fix it. Lashing out at others felt better in the moment than accepting that you are powerless to change the situation, to give up hope of someone being able to create a better ending.

“Annabeth did save him. Luke died a hero. He sacrificed himself to kill Kronos.” Percy was doing more to try to help Hermes, to support him than I had in the past several decades. 

“I appreciate your words, Percy. But Kronos isn’t dead. You can’t kill a Titan.”

 "Then—" 

“I don’t know,” Hermes grumbled. “None of us do. Blown to dust. Scattered to the wind. With luck, he’s spread so thin that he’ll never be able to form a consciousness again, much less a body. But don’t mistake him for dead, Percy.”

 I hoped that he, Gaea, and the Giants stayed gone for a REALLY long time. These kids had already lived through two wars, and were living through a thrid one. Please, let them have a break.

“What about the other Titans?” 

“In hiding,” Hermes said. “Prometheus sent Zeus a message with a bunch of excuses for supporting Kronos. ‘I was just trying to minimize the damage,’ blah, blah. He’ll keep his head low for a few centuries if he’s smart. Krios has fled, and Mount Othrys has crumbled into ruins. Oceanus slipped back into the deep ocean when it was clear Kronos had lost. Meanwhile, my son Luke is dead. He died believing I didn’t care about him. I will never forgive myself.”

Self-loathing coated his every word. 

We were the same, and I had refused to see it. I had thought I was the only one suffering from such guilt and heartbreak, the only one who hated himself for his failures. I thought there was something fundamentally wrong with me. Something broken. 

But it wasn’t just me. Hermes was going through the same thing, and I hadn’t seen it. Hadn’t known. I hardly saw him in recent centuries, and when I did, it had barely even occurred to me that Hermes could be going through similar problems.

Both of us his the true depths of our pain, our shame, our guilt. Neither of us opening up to each other, sharing the burden. He at least seemed to be facing his guilt and sadness, rather than just pretending it wasn’t there. I had hidden behind a facade my whole life, trying to fool everyone into thinking I was fine… including myself.

How many of us had hidden our pain from each other, from ourselves? 

At least Percy was still trying to help. “A long time ago,” he said, “you told me the hardest thing about being a god was not being able to help your children. You also told me that you couldn’t give up on your family, no matter how tempting they made it.” 

I smiled. We really were alike. Both of us had learned that lesson. 

“And now you know I’m a hypocrite?”

 "No, you were right, Luke loved you. At the end, he realized his fate. I think he realized why you couldn’t help him. He remembered what was important.“

I wasn’t entirely sure where Percy got that from. As far as I could tell, Luke didn’t mention his father at all. I guess he was trying to make Hermes feel better.

"Too late for him and me." 

"You have other children. Honor Luke by recognizing them. All the gods can do that.” 

That I agreed with. It was his dying wish, his dying plea. To make things better for his siblings, for all the children of the gods.

Hermes’s shoulders sagged. “They’ll try, Percy. Oh, we’ll all try to keep our promise. And maybe for a while things will get better. But we gods have never been good at keeping oaths. You were born because of a broken promise, eh? Eventually we’ll become forgetful. We always do.” 

He sounded so defeated. I couldn’t blame him. Sometimes it seemed like things never changed.

Yet I knew that Hermes was wrong. We didn’t always forget. I had never forgotten Daphne or Hyacinthus, forgotten my roles in their deaths. I had never wanted to, despite the pain it caused me. I refused to forget my great loves.

That was it. We immortals were not so inherently different from mortals. We could learn, change, grow. We just rarely saw the need to. We convinced ourselves that we were perfect and infallible, knowing in our hearts that it was untrue, but thinking that we were the only ones who were like that, who were broken. We told ourselves and each other that we couldn’t change, that it became a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Until someone disrupts the status quo.

Someone like Percy Jackson.

Someone like Jason Grace.

Someone like myself.

The demigods had taken their turn. It was time a god tried to change things, to make things better.

“You can change.”

 Hermes laughed. “After three thousand years, you think the gods can change their nature?" 

 "Yeah,” Percy said. “I do.” 

So he’d been doing this for awhile. It wasn’t just me he believed could change, HAD changed. He believed in all the gods’ ability to change. He believed in us more than we believed in ourselves. 

I wondered where he got such faith, considering everything he’d been through at the hands of the gods.

Hermes seemed surprised by that. “You think … Luke actually loved me? After all that happened?" 

"I’m sure of it.”

Hermes stared at the fountain. “I’ll give you a list of my children. There’s a boy in Wisconsin. Two girls in Los Angeles. A few others. Will you see that they get to camp?" 

I smiled. It was a long road to make things better, but Hermes had taken the first step. He was willing to try. He  _wanted_  to try.

"I promise,” Percy said. “And I won’t forget.” 

“Percy Jackson,” Hermes said thoughtfully, “you might just teach us a thing or two.” 

“You already have,” I whispered.

The world blurred again. I blinked, and we were back in the tent at Camp Jupiter. Percy, Annabeth, and Meg had also started stirring, getting up from where they had been sitting. 

Percy pulled Annabeth into a hug. 

A minute later, they separated. I asked the question that had started burning in my mind during Percy and Hermes conversation. “Percy… why did you believe that gods could change. WE didn’t believe that, so why did you?”

“Because you’re people. Mortal or immortal, god or human, you’re still a person. And people can change, even if you don’t believe you can.”

He paused for a moment, sadness flickering in his expression. “I knew another immortal once. He didn’t think that he could change either.”

Percy let out a laugh. It sounded almost like a choked sob. “He was a Titan. We called him Bob, but you’d know him as Iapetus.”

“Iapetus?” I asked, searching for the name. “Wait… one of Kronos’s brothers. You BEFRIENDED him?!”

“Not at first. First time I met him he’d just broken out of Tartarus. We were in the Underworld when we met. I was badly injured and couldn’t defeat him. So I dragged both of us into the River Lethe. I kept myself dry, but Iapetus’s mind was wiped clean. When we straggled onshore, He asked me who he was. I told him he was my friend Bob. He was nice and friendly. He even noticed I had a wound and healed it. We left him in Hades palace, to do what he wanted with him.” Percy’s voice sounded like Hermes’ now, bitter and self-loathing. “I’d told him we were friends. But I didn’t think about him after that. I never asked how he was doing. Turns out, Hades’ made him a janitor. As far as I know, the only one who looked after him, who cared about him, was Nico.” 

Percy drew a shaky breath, steeling himself for the rest of his story. “Nico asked him to help me, if he could. When Annabeth and I fell into Tartarus.”

My jaw dropped. “Wait, WHAT?!” I screamed. “I had to have heard you wrong. Did you say you and Annabeth were in TARTARUS?! As in, the prison for evil immortals? The place monsters spawn from? The place where GODS fear to tread? THAT Tartarus?”

“Yep,” Percy sighed, looking very, very tired. “That’s the one.”

“HOW ARE YOU ALIVE?!”

“Because of Bob,” he said simply. “I mentioned Bob to Annabeth as we were walking through Tartarus. He heard me say his name, and jumped into Tartarus without a second thought. He wanted to help us, because he thought we were friends.”

“I used him,” Percy continued, his voice taking on a guilty tone. “I said we were friends, and used that to manipulate him into helping us. I even convinced him to kill his own brother, just by asking him if we were friends, and then telling him that he was a good titan, but that Krios was a bad one. I asked him to decide what to do. He killed Krios, so he wouldn’t hurt his friends. So he wouldn’t hurt us.”

Percy’s voice grew lower, shame dripping from every word. “We met up with arai. They told Bob what I did. That I destroyed his memory. That I had stolen his life, left him to scrub floors. I couldn’t deny that. I still tried to say I was his friend. But I knew I was lying. I’d only convinced myself we were friends, just because I needed him. I only cared about him when I could use him to get what I wanted. Just like Hercules. Just like the gods.”

He inhaled a shaky breath, exhaled, and continued. “He left us. He didn’t attack us for tricking him. He just left. I fought off the arai as best I could, but it wasn’t enough. As I was dying, I begged Bob for his forgiveness, and to help Annabeth at least. I didn’t expect him to help. I didn’t deserve it. But I needed to say it at least.”

“And he came back.”

“He remembered the truth, but he still helped us, KNOWING that I had lied. Because he wanted to keep his promise to Nico. He guided us through Tartarus, to a good giant. Damasen. Damasen healed Percy, but was too afraid to try to leave. He thought it was a fool’s errand. Still, he helped us with supplies, gave us shelter for the night, and only asked for stories and company in return. 

“He took us all the way to the Doors of Death. He ran into some of his brothers there. They thought he was on their side still. They would have welcomed him with open arms if he had turned us over to them. Instead he bluffed and got us safely past them. We talked afterwards. He said that he had remembered what his brother was talking about, when he talked about Bob’s past. But he wasn’t sure whether he wanted the memory. I told him that he could choose what to keep of Iapetus, and what he wanted to maintain as Bob. That his future was what mattered. He told me that “the future” was a mortal concept, that he wasn’t meant to change, even as he called me his friend. But if he had been the same, then we would never have become friends. Annabeth and I would have died already.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. I sensed that whatever came next would be especially painful. He opened them and continued the story. “We had to ascend the elevator through the Doors of Death. In order to do that, someone had to press the button for the elevator down for twelve minutes, all while fighting off Tartarus and his forces.”

“Wait…” I interjected, hoping that he misspoke, even as the sinking feeling in my gut said that he hadn’t. “You meant Tartarus’s forces, right?”

Percy let out a wild, hopeless laugh. “Nope. Tartarus made himself a physical body and tried to kill us personally.”

WHAT.

“HOW ARE YOU STILL HERE,” I screamed. I thought being stranded in Tartarus was bad, but facing down Tartarus himself while WITHIN Tartarus? That was a new level of suck.

He gave me that bitter, self-loathing look again. “Because of Bob and Damasen. Oh, and a skeleton kitten Bob found and named Small Bob.”

At this point, I didn’t have the energy to be surprised at them finding a skele-kitten. It was the least weird part of this story.

“I wanted to press down the button to let Annabeth, Bob, Damasen, and Small Bob escape. But he insisted on pressing the button. Those three sacrificed themselves so that we would escape, knowing that they’d be absorbed by Tartarus in the end. He asked me to tell the suns and stars hello.”

Tears shone in Percy’s eyes. “I guess I didn’t know for sure whether immortals could change, back when I told Hermes I believed they could. But I do now. If a Titan like Bob could change, then other immortals can too. Even ones you never thought were capable of it. Ones who thought that THEY weren’t capable of it.”

I stared at him and slowly nodded. If even Titans could change, then we gods had no excuse.  And if any of the gods protested that change was impossible, I’d tell them Bob’s story, along with my own.

We would be better.

We had to be.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit different from the other chapters, since it doesn't have a flashback per se. Hope you guys still like it! Please comment, it's very motivating.

“Why did I agree to watch this again?”

“Because it’s a marvelous educational film directed by and starring _moi._ ”

Meg stared at me. I relented. “…and because you lost a bet.”

We’d arrived at Camp Half-Blood a few days ago to recuperate and sort out our next move. I’d been delighted to see my children again. If they tell you I blubbered like a baby and couldn’t string three coherent words together though, they’re lying.

The Demeter Cabin welcomed Meg with open arms. She hadn’t had much chance to get to know her siblings due to… ah… circumstances, but from the tears in the corners of her eyes, I could tell she was happy to see her family too.

We’d each sat and ate at our respective tables and got to talking. I’d mentioned to my kids how proud I was of the orientation film I’d made, and how Meg had deprived herself of it. They had some weird screwed-up expressions on their face after I said that, which I  _still_  haven’t figured out what they meant. Austin came up with a brilliant idea to get Meg to watch it; have a small capture the flag competition between just the Demeter and Apollo Cabins. If we won, anyone who hadn’t already seen the Orientation film would have to watch it (both cabins insisted on that condition. Apparently both had seen it recently and didn’t want to rewatch it for some reason) while if they won, the Apollo cabin would have to muck out the Pegasus stables.

Naturally we won, because my children are brilliant and wonderful. The Demeter cabin put up a fair fight though. It took me half-an-hour to pick all the burrs out of my hair.

For some reason, the Campers acted like Meg was about to die. They all said that they’d work on making a shroud for her. I still can’t understand why. Sometimes I think I understand demigods, and then they do something like that. Perhaps it’s an inside joke?

In any case, the demigods had helped us set up the viewing equipment and then hastily left before the film could start, leaving just me and Meg.

The movie started with darkness, as all good movies do. A spotlight turned on, illuminating my divine self.

I nearly cried. My long, golden, flowing hair! My cheekbones! My flawless skin! My eight-pack abs! Oh, the cruelty of Zeus knew no bounds! He couldn’t have let me keep my hair at least? The medium-length hair I was now sporting was no good for flipping dramatically, or waving majestically in the breeze! Ah, and that  _chiton_  I was wearing. I could never pull it off in my current form, but it showed off my muscular godly thighs so well!

On the screen, I held out a book. I cleared my throat, “A poem by Apollo, recited dramatically by… Apollo:

_O Immortal Chiron,_  
Centaur wise and true,  
Trainer of our heroes,  
Just remember who taught you. “

Speaking of heroes….

I glanced at Meg, gauging her reaction to seeing my divine self. Her eyes were wide with shock, her mouth slightly agape. “That’s YOU?!” she exclaimed, looking back-and-forth between my appearance on-screen, and now.

“Yes,” I said wistfully. “That’s what I normally look like… mostly. I change things a bit, sometimes appearing older, sometimes younger, changing eye colors and hairstyles too, but that’s a pretty typical look for me.”

She studied me some more, looking less shocked and more inquisitive now. “You look nothing like that now.”

I groaned. “I KNOW.”

She looked back at the screen with some trepidation, as I gave narration. “You’re not gonna bend over, are you? I don’t wanna see your butt.”

I huffed. “I’ll have you know, my butt is perfect.”

“Don’t care, don’t wanna see it.”

I grumbled a little, but secretly I agreed. I’d seen enough of my butt when the gigantic statue of me - with Nero’s face plastered on it - rampaged around Camp Half-Blood.

* * *

The next segment started up a few minutes later. This time I was dressed in a glittery suit and my hair was slicked back. An a cappella choir of demigods stood behind me, all dressed in suits. I pointed to the boys and then the girls side, directing them to start singing the background tune I needed. In the present day, I appreciated their ability to harmonize. Clearly none of Hermes’ children were in this segment. I still remembered Cecil’s complete inability to follow rhythm when we needed to appeal the Mama Myrmekes.

After they were properly warmed up, I announced:

“Ladies and Gentlemen… the Lyre Choir!”

As the choir sang a soft, slow background melody, I began singing.

_“Marble may be marble-lous,_

_And wood might be good._

_Stone’s a sturdy choice,_

_for this half-blood neighborhood._

_But for my children’s cabin,_

_I demand something more divine._

_so give me precious metal,_

_and make it GOLD every time!”_

I hummed along to the melody. I’d forgotten I’d put in musical segments, but I was glad I did. Nothing could make an educational film entertaining like music!

[Everyone sings _]: Gold, gold, gold, gold - there’s nothing quite so bright!_

_Gold, gold, gold, gold - it reflects Apollo’s might!_

I stared at my hands for a moment at that one. I certainly didn’t  _feel_  mighty now. And not just because I’d lost my power. I hadn’t been able to protect my children. They’d been kidnapped because of me. Jason had died because of me. The Emperors were still out there, still intent on subjugating all the demigods, like how Nero kidnapped Meg. And Python, my old nemesis, still waited for me, plotting my destruction.

But even if I’d still been a god, what would have changed?

I would have gone after Python, scared as I was of him. I would have defeated him or died trying.

But not much more than that.

Maybe I would have intervened when my own children went missing -  _if_  they went missing. That had at least partly been to bait me. I could see leaving a hint to their location, assuming  _I_  knew where they were.

I wouldn’t have intervened prior to that.  _Demigods go missing? Who cares! They go missing or die all the time_.

The battle at the Waystation? The struggle against Caligula on the boats? Maybe I would’ve watched. But I wouldn’t have intervened. For all my supposed might, for all the difference in power between my godly self and my mortal self, My mortal self had done more good, made more of a difference than my godly self would have. Just because I was more powerful as a god, didn’t make me mightier.

It reminded me of a story my old friend Aesop told me, about a miser and his gold.

A miser had acquired some gold and buried it in the ground. He visited it for years, digging it up to stare at it and then re-burying it. One day it was stolen. Grief-stricken, the miser cried and wailed, making such a fuss that a traveler stopped by and asked him what was wrong. The miser confessed that someone had stolen the gold he’d hidden. The traveler had asked why he put it in such an inaccessible place, where he’d have difficulty getting it out when he wanted to spend some. The miser, affronted, replied that he’d never even _think_  of spending his gold. At that, the traveler had tossed a stone into the hole, and told him to cover it up, that it had just as much worth to him as the gold he’d lost.

I had not appreciated the moral when I first heard the story. After all, the gold was lustrous and valuable. The stone was not. Even just possessing that gold made the miser feel powerful and rich.

Now I had another view on it. My divinity was like the gold, hidden away, jealously guarded, to be obsessed over, not used. Even as a god, an Olympian, I had done little good for my children, or the people I now counted as my friends. I had power, but I’d hardly used it to help, even when the problems plaguing the demigods were divine in nature, not mortal.

Now… now it was like the gold was stolen, and replaced with a handful of drachma. Not nearly as valuable as the gold, but every piece was actually being used to better the world, instead of being merely stared at.

I was mightier now, as a mortal, than I had ever been as a god, because I was willing to try my hardest to help - something I would either not do as a god, or not do much of.

[Divine!Apollo cuts off the choir, restarting his solo]

_Silver suits my sister,_

_But unattended, it can tarnish._

_Roofs of thatch are fine, I guess,_

_But why not add some varnish?_

_Vines of wine are creepy,_

Meg snorted and rolled her eyes at that one, giving a look as if to say ‘Really? you said that’? Out loud, she said, “Wine isn’t a vine. And grapevines aren’t creepy.”

_And abalone smells like fish,_

As my divine self continued singing, I replied, “I needed a rhyme. And they  _are_  creepy. Why, I remember this one time with Dionysus…”

She  _shushed_  me. On the one hand, I was annoyed that she didn’t want to hear my story. On the other hand, it meant that she wanted to hear my singing.

Hah! She could claim she didn’t like my singing as much as she wanted, but I knew the truth.

_Red’s too strong a color,_

_And gray is boring-ish._

_That’s why my children’s cabin,_

_Is made of something more divine._

_I’m worth that precious metal -_

_So make it GOLD every time!_

[All] _Gold, gold, gold, gold…_

I saw Meg mouthing along to the last line. I tactfully did not mention it.

Another segment started up. This time, I wore a white T-shirt, jeans, a leather jacket, and some awesome-looking sunglasses. I lounged on a throne beneath a neon sign proclaiming “Fortunately Apollo’s Here!”

I frowned. What was this segment about?

On-screen, my godly self shouted, “Next!”

A female camper entered and asked, “O, Great Apollo, god of prophecy, tell me, will I ever find love?”

“Find love? I didn’t know it was missing?”

Beside me, I heard Meg groan as she buried her face in her hands.

Meanwhile, I winced at the reminder of my being the god of prophecy… or rather NOT being the god of prophecy.

Back on the film, I cried out, “Next!”

A male camper entered this time.

“O, Great Apollo, god of prophecy, tell me, will I ever be rich?”

“What’s your name, child?”

“Albert, Great Apollo.”

“Well, Albert Greatapollo, I foresee only one way for you to be rich…”

“What is it?”

“Change your name to Richard.”

At that, Meg let out an even LOUDER groan. “You make such dad jokes.”

I didn’t know what that meant exactly, but I had the feeling I’d just been insulted.

A second male camper entered and asked, “O, Great Apollo, god of prophecy, will I ever discover who my godly parent is?”

“Dear child, the answer is right in front of you.”

“Really? Where?”

My divine self stood up and spread his arms, “Right in front of you.”

“I don’t get it. Am I missing a clue?”

“You’re missing a clue alright. One might even call you clueless!”

Meg frowned slightly as the segment ended. “You hadn’t claimed him before that?”

I frowned, hoping I could remember the child. Luckily, my memory felt like cooperating. “I’d claimed him years before that. This was all scripted, he just pretended not to know I was his father.”

Meg nodded, the frown disappearing from her face in favor of a thoughtful expression.

In another segment I jogged backwards across the beach, shooting arrows from my favorite golden bow, campers in full battle gear jogging behind me in military formation. I flashed a blinding smile at the camera as my golden hair flowed behind me. In the present, I bit back a sob.

My godly self began a rousing military chant, the campers repeating each line:

“I don’t know but I’ve been told!”

“We don’t know but we’ve been told!”

“The sun god’s got a bow of gold!”

“The sun god’s got a bow of gold!”

“He’s the best shot in the land!”

“ He’s the best shot in the land!”

Suddenly, my godly self tripped and landed on his butt. Meg erupted into giggles. I couldn’t help joining her. At the time it was kinda embarrassing, but with what I’d been dealing with the last few months, I was kinda used to that now. And it WAS pretty funny.

“ Augh!  I’ve fallen in the sand!”

No longer being able to follow my godly self, the campers improvised, jogging n circles around me instead.

“ Augh! He’s fallen in the sand!”

“ I meant to do that, so don’t laugh!”

I snorted. Like anyone had actually believed that.

“He meant to do that, so don’t laugh!”

My divine self attempted to get back up. Key word being ‘attempted’. He fell back down on his butt.

“Ow! I hurt my godly calf!”

At this point, both Meg and I were guffawing so hard our sides hurt. I couldn’t BELIEVE I left this in, but I was glad I did. I needed a good laugh, even if it was at my own expense.

“Ow! He hurt his godly calf!”

My godly self glowered at the campers and started to glow. The laughter died in my throat. “If you want to live another day …”

“ If we want to live another day …”

My godly self glowed brighter. I sat back heavily, mirth forgotten. Meg had also quieted down, choosing to glare at my past self. I joined her. REALLY? There just HAD to be an appearance of stupid murderous Apollo. I highly doubt I would actually have hurt those campers, but THEY didn’t know that, and I wasn’t COMPLETELY sure I wouldn’t have. Gods I was a jerk.

“STOP REPEATING WHAT I SAY!” my divine(ly stupid) self shouted.

“STOP - um… “

I breathed a sigh of relief. At least they knew better than to purposely antagonize my godly self. I really, REALLY wished I could reach through time and smack myself. A lot.

Meg was quiet.

I looked over at her, worried.

“I shouldn’t have said those things.”

Meg looked back at me. “Yeah. You shouldn’t have. It was stupid.”

“I won’t do it again,” I promised.

Meg’s face softened slightly. “I know.”

* * *

New segment, this time with myself as a game show host. I stared longingly at the open shirt, bright gold lamé jacket I wore. Oh how I wished I could wear some of my old attire! Alas, glittery golden lamé  _anything_  had fallen out of fashion for some inconceivable reason. I’d tried to convert Meg to the lamé side, but she kept misunderstanding and thinking I was saying “lame”. …Or she was teasing me. I honestly wasn’t sure at this point.

I (by which I mean my godly self) opened up the segment:

“Welcome to our first annual Camp Half-Blood quiz show! Please give a warm welcome to our contestants. From Athena cabin… Bea Wise! From Ares cabin… Arnold Beefcake! And representing our cloven-hoofed friends… Ferdinand Underwood the satyr!”

Wait, what?

Underwood? Like GROVER Underwood? 

I perked up, listening intently. 

Meg leaned towards and whispered, “Is he related to..?”

I whispered back, “Probably. Shh.”

I was still talking on-screen. “Contestants, you know the rules. I ask a question. If you know the answer, ding your bell. Are you ready?”

Wise tapped her temple. “I think, therefore I am.”

Beefcake flexed. “Do your worst!”

Ferdinand, meanwhile…

“Um, I ate my bell.”

Meg giggled. I smiled. Ah, satyrs and their insatiable appetite. That’s one thing Grover had in common with his maybe-relative!

On-screen, my godly self cried, “Excellent! Then let’s begin. First question. Name the serpent I slayed.”

I sat back and scowled. Really? Did I HAVE to remind myself of Python? It’s not like he occupied my nightmares enough already. Nope. He HAD to crop up during the day too. That serpent, always popping up when he wasn’t wanted. For a moment I fantasized about asking Hephaestus to make some sort of serpent-killing machine. Alas, there was no way it would be that easy.

*Ding ding*

Bea hit her bell. Of course she did. Athena’s kids were usually the most knowledgeable of all the demigods. She had this in the bag… right?

I frowned. That didn’t seem right… I couldn’t think of what happened though. I stopped trying to remember and just watched. It’s not like I’d have to wait long for answers.

“Wise?” my divine self called on her.

 “That’s not a question.”

I snorted. That also wasn’t an answer.

My past self agreed. “Sorry, ‘That’s not a question.” is incorrect.”

“No, wait, I meant-”

*Ding, ding*

“The serpent was Python!” Beefcake declared. 

“Correct!”

Beefcake flashed two thumbs up. “Ayyyyy!”

“Next question-”

Ferdinand chimed in. “So should I just say  _ding-ding_  if I know the answer or-”

My godly self ignored him. “Who falsely accused me of flaying him alive after a music contest?” 

Really? WHY would I bring that up? Especially since it was my fault I was ‘falsely accused’ of that anyway. I spread that rumor in the first place! I hadn’t wanted people to think I was ‘soft’. Nowadays I regretted it and had been trying to quash it. 

Ferdinand’s eyes went wide. He withdrew slightly, looking freaked out. Scared.

I felt terrible. I should’ve known that would freak him out. Why did I include that question, KNOWING that I would invite a satyr?

Of course I knew the answer to that. I hadn’t cared. A satyr was scared. So what? Why should I care about his feelings? 

Heck, even AFTER I’d turned mortal, I didn’t care much for a while. I’d freaked out Woodrow. I hadn’t meant to, but me being in his class, playing music, caused him to beg me to not flay him. I’d reassured him at the time that I wouldn’t, but I hadn’t really absorbed WHY he’d been so freaked out. Now I did. I was the satyr’s boogeyman. I didn’t want to be. Not anymore.

What could I do to change that?

Maybe I should ask Grover. I was planning on apologizing to him for that Celedon business anyway. Now I had two more things to add to the list. Ask about Ferdinand so I could apologize to him, and come up with a way to put the satyrs fear of me to rest.

Ferdinand blanched, “Blaa-blaa!”

My godly self ignored Ferdinand’s freak-out. Of course he did. “I’m sorry, ‘Blaa-blaa’ is incorrect. Also, you didn’t ring in. The correct answer is Marsyas the satyr.”

Wise was indignant. “Hang on! I knew that! You didn’t give me a chance to answer!”

“He thought he was so great on those stupid twin pipes, but I sure showed him.”

I glared at my past self, wishing I could shoot lasers from my eyes into the past. Sadly, nothing happened.

Beefcake cheered, “Yeah, you did!”

Wise was annoyed, “I thought you were  _falsely_  accused.”

Ferdinand continued freaking out, “Blaa-blaa!”

I felt a pang of guilt. I REALLY hoped this part wasn’t dragged out much longer.

Mercifully, my past self gave me a break. “Final question: Do you know what time it is?”

*Ding-ding*

Wise looked at the sun’s location, clearly using it to tell time. “Two twen-”

“It’s dancing time!”

My godly self ripped off his jacket and shirt and started Hula-hooping.

“Hit it boys!”

Satyrs danced in, flailing ribbon sticks, playing reed pipes, and cavorting around my divine self.

Meg stared at the scene. “This is SO stupid.”

I just grinned. 

Beefcake was thrilled “Oh yeah!” He ripped off his shirt, twirling it in the air. “Now it’s a party!”

Wise rubbed her temples, thoroughly exasperated. I’d seen that same look on Athena’s face several times, along with her descendant’s faces. I had long been convinced that it was as much an Athena trait as overly detailed plans were. “I can’t believe I studied for this.”

“Ding-ding?” Ferdinand chimed in as the segment ended.

* * *

“That was awful.”

“Well the style was a little… dated, I admit, and maybe it COULD have been more informative, but…”

“Nope. Don’t try to save it. That was horrible.”

Okay, yeah, I could see where she was coming from. Looking back on it now, it wasn’t really the BEST way to present the info. I winced. Especially since most of it came off as an ego trip for me.

It wasn’t just the style of the video that was outdated anyways. Between Thalia’s tree, the Golden Fleece, all the additional cabins and the new rules regarding gods claiming their kids (I winced slightly, thinking of that one. It REALLY shouldn’t have taken a young demigod FORCING us gods to claim all our children and to give recognition of non-Olympian demigods), the Athena Parthenos, and the Grove of Dodona, there had been a LOT of changes. Not to mention the existence of the Roman camp.

Hmm… if it needs an update…

“Well… when this quest is over, if I survive, why don’t we make a NEW orientation film?”

Meg looked over at me cautiously, though her eyes glinted slightly. “This won’t be an excuse to stroke your ego this time, right?”

“Why, I never!” I cried dramatically, clutching one hand to my chest. “I am the pinnacle of modesty, I would never dream of it!”

Meg giggled. I grinned.

Still smiling, she warned, “I’m not sticking around if you rip off your shirt.”

“But I pull it off so well!”

She stared at me.

“Fiiiiine,” I crossed my arms and pouted. Secretly I was happy we could relax and banter like this. The past few weeks had been stressful. We needed to decompress.

“Maybe we should get everyone’s help with the new video?” Meg suggested.

“I was planning on it,” I replied, slightly more seriously. “Being mortal has shown me that there are some things you don’t realize are important unless you’ve been in that situation. The demigods will probably have a better idea what sorts of things other demigods need to know, the sorts of things they WISH they knew when they started camp.”

Meg nodded.

I grinned, adding, “We’re keeping the Hokey Pokey border song, though.”

She groaned, “It was TERRIBLE, no!”

“Oh, come on! I saw the way you smiled while I and the demigods were singing it. ‘It lets the demigods in! It shuts the monsters out! It keeps the half-bloods safe, but turns mortals all about! It’s Misty, and it’s magic, and it makes me want to shout: the border is all about!”

Meg covered her ears, steadfastly ignoring my existence as we exited the Big House.

* * *

A few hours later, I stood near the Woods, watching Grover chat with some dryads. Meg had offered to come with me for this, but I’d turned her down. I wanted to have a private chat with Grover. Besides, I didn’t want to eat into her time with her siblings. She hadn’t gotten to know them very well last time, and I didn’t know how much longer we’d be here this time.

Whatever chat Grover was having with the dryads appeared to be winding down. I approached him.

He turned around. “Apollo? What is it?”

I sucked in a breath and slowly exhaled. No need to be nervous. I was just apologizing to a friend.

“Grover? Can we talk in private? Please?”

He looked confused and a little worried. “Um… okay. Where do you want to go?”

“My kids are all out right now, so we can use the Me cabin… if you’re okay with that.”

Silently he mouthed ‘the me cabin’, looking confused. Realization slowly dawned on his face. “OH. Oh right! That makes sense. Yeah, that’s fine.”

We walked over to the cabins. I fidgeted slightly. Come on, I apologized to Percy, and he’s MUCH more intimidating! This shouldn’t be so hard!

That had been more natural, though. I didn’t have to go out of my way to make it happen.

I closed the door behind us and turned to face Grover. 

“So Apollo, what’s going on?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted out. Yeah, that seemed like a good way to start.

He looked confused. “Um, for what?”

I rubbed the back of my head. “You know how I sometimes had flashbacks, re-experiencing the past?”

“Yeaaaah…?”

“Well lately, Meg and I have gotten sucked into flashbacks together, sometimes with others. First time it happened, we were sucked into my memories, and I saw how I acted as a god from an outside perspective. One of the things I saw was that quest I sent you and Percy on. You know, when you got back my Celedon for me?”

“Oh. Oh yeah, I remember that. Heh. It’s only been two years, but so much has happened…”

“Yeah…” they’d been through so much… “so I… just wanted to apologize for… you know… forcing you to go on a quest on your birthday…. and forgetting it was your birthday… and forgetting your name… and threatening to kill you if you damaged my lyre.”

Awkward. This was SO awkward.

He grimaced. “I was scared at the time. I really thought you might incinerate me. That was the WORST birthday I’ve ever had.”

I avoided his eyes, a lump forming in my throat.

“Still,” he continued. “It wasn’t that bad, as far as quests go. At least you made sure to choose people who could definitely do it without dying. And it’s nowhere NEAR the worst thing that a god’s thrown at us.”

“I’m… I’m not going to do that again. It wasn’t right to make you endanger yourselves when I could have done it just as easily. She was my responsibility, not yours. I’m going to try to stop other gods from doing that too. Endangering mortals unnecessarily, I mean. If I can’t stop them, I’ll try to help as much as I can. I… I’m sick of people dying needlessly.”

Grover blinked and studied my face, as if seeing me for the first time.

He exhaled, smiling slightly. “I am too. Thanks.”

I suddenly remembered the other revelations I came to while watching the orientation video. “Do you know where Ferdinand Underwood is? I rewatched the orientation video I made recently. I really freaked him out when I talked about Marsyas, and I wanted to apologize to him too.”

“Oh, uh… he’s not around anymore. Percy, Annabeth, and I stumbled across him years ago. Apparently he’d stumbled into Medusa’s lair and been turned into a statue.”

“My condolences.”

An long pause followed. How do you continue on from that?

Eventually I decided to just plow on through with what I was saying.

“I didn’t flay Marsyas. I just made that up to sound scary. You know that, right?”

“I wondered. After traveling with you for a week, I couldn’t imagine you doing that.”

“I want to put that myth to rest. Stop satyrs from thinking that I’ll skin them if they offend me. And REALLY put it to rest, not the mixed signal thing I was doing before. Will you help me?”

He thought for a minute. “…Okay. I think I know how to do that. We can start now, if you like.”

Now?

“How do you propose I do that?”

He smiled. “Being a Lord of the Wild has privileges. The satyr school is having classes right now. We can talk to the teacher about allowing you to be a guest speaker. I’ll warn you, though. A lot of the kids will probably be scared of you. The Marsyas story is used to warn us about the consequences of getting on the wrong side of a god, starting from an early age. Some of them might freak out a little.”

My chest tightened. For a minute it felt like I was being squeezed by Python. I was used as a warning to kids, to tell them that they had to be good, or else the big, scary god would kill them slowly and painfully. I really WAS the boogeyman. I didn’t like it.

“I don’t… I don’t want to freak them out. I’ve caused them enough distress. Any advice?”

“Be gentle. Don’t get angry or upset. They’ll calm down when they realize that you won’t hurt them. Nowadays, you’re nothing like what we were warned of. They’ll realize that too.”

I breathed out, relaxing slightly. This was fixable. And I could start fixing it NOW, on my own. I could make things better even BEFORE I regained my godhood.

“Thanks.”

As we exited the Me cabin, Grover looked back at me. “I know I didn’t say this before, but… Apollo, you’re a good friend.”

A warmth filled my chest as Grover walked towards the Satyr school. 

‘ _You’re a good friend_.’ 

I never thought those words would matter to me so much.

I’d change things with what little power I had.

I’d do my best.

But I didn’t have to do it alone.

I had friends to help me.


	5. Side Story - Satyr School

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By popular demand, here's a side story of Apollo at the Satyr School! I decided to leave it within the same story after all, and just designate it as a side story.

I stood rigidly in front of the satyr school.  _Come on, just walk in, one foot forward, then the other._  I still didn’t move. 

Come on, they’re just satyr children, you’ve talked to them a million times before!  _Yes_ , part of me whispered. _And they’ve been scared of you for a lot of those times, both as children AND adults._

Thousands of years ago, I’d help spread the rumor that I had skinned Marsyas alive for bragging  about being a better musician than me. That wasn’t QUITE the case - I could see now how cruel I could be in the past, but even I wasn’t THAT bad. But I’d told people I had done it, in order to come off as more intimidating. Eventually I had regretted spreading such a bloodthirsty, false tale about myself. I hadn’t done much to combat it though. Part of me had wanted to be feared, even for something cruel. “Fear” and “respect” could seem awfully similar after all.

I no longer wished for that facsimile of respect. If the satyrs no longer listened to me as attentively, if they no longer treated me with as much deference, than so be it. Over my months as a mortal, I had grown to appreciate how nice it could be to be treated as an equal, and as a friend. 

As for being feared…

My stomach curdled.

I had been forced to confront truths I had ignored for millennia. How much Zeus’s cruelty could HURT, for one. How much of my anger I had misdirected, afraid to strike at Zeus directly, instead taking it out on people who were only tangentially involved, like the Cyclopes. And the reason why I - and most of the other Olympians, I suspected - obeyed Zeus… for the most part. 

It wasn’t because of respect. Especially when it came to his orders during Second Titan War and the Second Giant War. Most of us knew he was making bad calls. Holing up in Olympus and wishing the problem away was never going to work. But most of us had still done it, fearing what he’d do to us if we didn’t. 

Like father, like son.

I had instilled the same fear in the satyrs. They didn’t “respect” me because I was good or wise or brave, but because they believed I might torture them to death if I didn’t.

I was more similar to my father than I’d like to admit.

Time to change that.

I took a deep breath, and opened the door.

* * *

I found the music hall easily. The building was pretty small, and Grover had given me some good directions.

I peered around the entrance first, wanting to get a good look at the class before entering.

Woodrow sat on a stool. At first glance he appeared composed. Yet I could hear his ragged breathing, saw the barely controlled fear in his expression.

His pupils weren’t in much better shape. Three young satyrs sat on small cushions, each of them with an instrument in their lap. I wondered why there were so few of them. Perhaps there were simply so few young satyrs who had been able to safely make their way to Camp Half-Blood, with how difficult and dangerous traveling had become since the Emperors revealed themselves. Perhaps the other students had decided to call in sick, hoping to avoid potentially angering me. Or both.

“Both” made my stomach twist the most, so it was probably right.

The satyr on the right had a Keytar on his lap. He looked to be around 8 in human years, which meant he was probably around 16 in actuality, since satyrs age at half the rate that humans do. He clutched his keytar to himself tightly, his knuckles turning white, breathing so quickly I thought he might pass out. I recognized that expression, that desperation to clutch onto SOMETHING for comfort. I had experienced it many times since becoming human.

The satyr in the middle looked slightly older - maybe 18 - and held a trumpet in his lap. He wasn’t clutching it like the satyr on the right had held his instrument. He seemed to be mimicking Woodrow’s rigidity instead, trying to hide his nerves by simply not moving at all.

The satyr on the left looked to be youngest, no older than 14. A tiny golden lyre sat beside him. My mind flashed to my own personal lyre, which I had modeled on the one Hermes had crafted for me all those millennia ago. A quiet sob echoed through the air.  I quickly snapped out of my reverie and took a closer look at the youngest satyr. His eyes were red and bloodshot as he pulled his legs up, burying his face in the soft, curly fur.

They were all so terrified, so afraid I might hurt them, might TORTURE them. And for good reason. I had WANTED them to be scared of me. Now I wished, not for the first time, that I could go back in time and punch my past self in the face. HARD.

I breathed out deeply, prepared myself, and stepped into the hall.

Immediately four heads snapped towards me. I wished I could shrink into oblivion, far away from those terrified eyes. 

Instead I plastered a (hopefully) friendly smile onto my face and walked towards Woodrow. He gave a wobbly smile in return. 

“I am Apollo,” I announced. “I will be your music teacher for the day.”

Originally I was thinking of just coming in and announcing that I HADN’T actually flayed Marsyas, but looking at all the satyrs, I felt it best to NOT bring up that story right now. I doubted they’d believe me anyway, but they might feel pressure to pretend that they did, and then be terrified when it became apparent that they actually still thought I’d flayed him, and… 

Well, best to just try to get them somewhat comfortable in my presence. For the first time I was glad that Zeus had given me a very non-imposing form.

The students stared at me. I shuffled my feet a little.

“So… what are your names?”

No one spoke. Clearly I’d need to be a little more active in order to get anywhere.

I pointed to the keytar satyr. “I’m- I’m Fern, sir.”

“You can play the keytar, Fern?” I asked.

“A- a little…but nowhere near as well as you sir, I’m sure!” he added hastily.

I turned towards the middle satyr, letting Fern relax now that my attention was no longer on him.

“That’s a nice trumpet,” I said.

“Do- do you want it? If you want it, you can have it,” he said. Every word seemed to pain him. He clearly LOVED that trumpet, but didn’t want to deny me.

“No, no! It’s yours! I just wanted to let you know I thought it was nice.”

The satyr sighed, clearly relieved. “Th-thanks.”

Hopefully he’d calmed down some more. Maybe now I could find out his name? I couldn’t just keep calling him “the middle satyr”.

“So what’s your name?”

“Aster, sir.”

“Thank you, Aster.”

I turned my attention to the last satyr, still partially curled into a ball.

“And you?” I asked as gently as I could. “What’s your name?”

“Wr-Wren,” he stuttered.

“That’s a lovely name, Wren.”

“Th-thank you.”

We sat in silence for a moment. Finally I decided to try to move the lesson along.

“So, Aster! Could you play a piece for me? The most complicated piece you’ve mastered, if you could. I’d like to judge what level you’re on.”

“Su-sure.”

Nervously, he played a quick, high energy piece. He played it well, with only the occasional stumble. It was pretty good, coming from someone so young. 

I smiled encouragingly as he finished. “That was very well done, Aster. You play the trumpet well.”

He smiled back. It was a little wobbly, a little fearful, but it appeared genuine.

“Thank you.”

I turned my attention to Fern. “You feel up for a performance?”

The look on his face said _no, he did NOT feel up for a performance, could you please turn away for a few seconds so I could run away and find a hole to crawl into and die?_  

Out loud, he said, “I’ll try.”

Slowly, he started playing. This song.. it seemed sad, but… hopeful. Saying that maybe everything wasn’t fine, but paradoxically, that somehow MADE things OK. Bad things happened. Terrible things had happened. But hope remained.

It… it struck close to home for me. I’d watched some awful things. I’d seen friends die, realized how blind we gods had been, how much we’d gotten wrong. Yet things could change for the better.  _I_  had changed for the better. 

_Remember what it’s like to be human._

Jason had passed the torch to me. It was up to me to continue changing things, to fulfill Jason’s promise, and my own. 

I smiled softly at Fern as he finished. If anyone noticed that my eyes were a little wetter, they didn’t comment.

“That was beautiful,” I said. “What song is it?”

“His Theme, sir,” Fern replied. He seemed calmer than before. The song seemed to have quieted his fear. “It’s from a video game called Undertale.”

“Who’s theme?” I asked. I wasn’t familiar with Undertale, though after hearing that song, I DEFINITELY wanted to look it up.

“That’s the name of the song, ‘His Theme’.” This time I could hear the quotation marks.

“Thank you for playing it for us, Fern,” I said gently. He smiled back at me. 

I turned to the final satyr child. “Wren?”

The boy startled. “Y-yes?”

He was still scared of me. I tried to soften my voice more, praying that that would put him at ease. “You feel up for playing your lyre? I’d love to hear it.”

Mutely he nodded, picking up the lyre in his shaking hands. Yet his hands were remarkably steady as he plucked the strings. 

This song I recognized. I’d heard it played several times over the past decade, played by many different musicians on many different instruments. A sad-sounding song, yet it was used as an intro.

“Dearly Beloved,” I stated as he finished. “From Kingdom Hearts.”

“You know it?!” he exclaimed, nervousness forgotten.

“Of course! It’s pretty well known, and besides…”

_And besides, it reminds me of the lovers I’ve lost_.

I didn’t say that aloud of course.

“Excellent song choice, Wren. You played that beautifully.”

Wren beamed at me. 

At last, I was making progress. They seemed to be losing some of their fear.

Then I looked over at Aster.

He was looking down at the floor, face crunched up slightly.

I frowned. Why did he seem upset? He’d played a nice piece on the trum-

Oh. OH.

I couldn’t remember much about the piece. He’d played it well enough, but there wasn’t much heart in it, and he’d stumbled over a few of the notes. I hadn’t been able to identify the song, and it hadn’t been memorable enough for me to feel inclined to ask what it was. He’d known how to play the trumpet, but it didn’t seem like the most natural instrument for him. As if he normally played something else.

“Aster,” I called, hoping my intuition was right, “Would you like to play the instrument your most proficient in for me?”

His jaw dropped.

“You knew?!”

“Not until just now. Please retrieve it, if you like. I promise I won’t be mad at you for playing it.”

He hesitated a moment, then walked over and pulled out a flute.

I had been right.

He’d hidden his true instrument, feared playing it because of what had happened when Marsyas had played one near me.h

But now he was willing to play it for me.

He started playing. Sad, slow, and melancholy again. It seemed to be a theme. I didn’t recognize this one.

This song… I could hear the longing, the unrequited love in every note. So soft, yet filled with gentle pain. Oh, Daphne…

Again, I was left in tears at the end.

“That was beautiful,” I whispered.

Aster beamed back at me. “I’ve been practicing that one for awhile. I’m the best in my class at the flute! Heck, even Woodrow’s had trouble teaching me more, since I’m beyond his level. I’ve never met anyone better than me at… it…”

A look of horror overcame his face.

“Un-until you, ofcourseyou’rebetteryou’reApolloyou’rethegodofmusicyou’reALWAYSthebestpleasedon’tkillmeI’llneverplayamusicalinstrumentagainjustpleasedon’t-”

My heart broke. He thought I would MURDER him, TORTURE him, a CHILD, JUST for the crime of playing the flute well, and SAYING how well he played it.

I had to set this right. This is why I came.

Aster threw the flute away and prostrated himself on the floor, trembling in fear, crying. The other two satyrs had backed up, looking at their friend as if they were afraid they’d never see him again.

Slowly I approached him, kneeling down to try and appear as unthreatening as possible. It… wasn’t really working, but still I tried.

“Aster,” I called. “Aster. I’m not going to hurt you. Not for playing well, and not for bragging about it either.”

He still sobbed, but I thought they’d quieted just a fraction.

“I- what I did to Marsyas- that story- it isn’t true. I- I didn’t kill him. I just told everyone I did, because I wanted to be feared. Marsyas was smart enough not to reveal himself and show that I had lied about killing him. Even he knew that was a bad idea. I- I wanted to be feared. For no one to dare think they compared to me. I regretted it later, but the damage was done. And I never fully committed to trying to repair it. Until now.”

“Aster, I’m GLAD you’re so good at playing the flute. I’m HAPPY that there are brilliant musicians in this world besides me, even ones who brag. I’m not gonna hurt you, or anyone else, simply for saying that their anywhere near as good as me, or even better. I won’t hurt someone for something so small. It’s WRONG, okay? I was WRONG to even pretend to do that in the past. So… please…”

I walked over to the side and retrieved the flute from where it fell. I held it out to Aster. “Please pick up your flute. I know how important an instrument is to a musician.”

Eyes still bloodshot, cheeks tear-stained, he reached out and accepted the flute. The other two satyr children let out sighs of relief.

Still, Aster stared at me in disbelief.

“It’s OK,” I soothed. “It’s OK.”

He moved towards me, and hugged. A second later he seemed to remember himself and flinched back. “It’s fine,” I said, hugging him back. “It’s fine.”

He melted into the hug.

We stayed like that for a minute.

This is what I had been missing. This warmth. Why had I ever thought it was better to be feared?

We broke apart, Aster still wiping tears from his eyes. Yet he was smiling.

“So!” I smiled at the three of them. “Who wants to learn some new songs from the God of Music himself?”

They cheered.

As I sat down and taught them some new (or rather, really REALLY old) songs, I smiled to myself.

Maybe I wasn’t a god right now, but I could still make things just this little bit better. I could change things, by myself, without needing powers. Even if it was small, it MATTERED. 

To these young, small, oh-so-fragile children, it MATTERED.

And I cared.

I cared what they thought of me.

I cared about their well-being.

I didn’t want them to live in fear of me.

And now they no longer would.

It would take a long time to undo the damage that the Marsyas story had inflicted on all the satyrs. There were  so many satyrs, and it had been passed down for so, so long.

But that wouldn’t stop me from trying.

It was simply one step on my quest to improve things for mortals, and to improve MYSELF.

And I had just taken another step.


	6. Chapter 6

I tried not to think about where we were going or what we were going to do.

Two days ago, I’d received a prophecy indicating what I needed to do in order to defeat Python. I still wasn’t sure about what all of it meant - prophecies are almost NEVER that straightforward, something I’d grown quite annoyed about during my time as a mortal - but one part of it was clear: we needed Python’s skin.

I’d vaguely remembered the skin being left as a trophy last time I defeated Python. I hadn’t wanted anything to do with it. I didn’t wish for any reminders of that fight. I couldn’t just leave it there, though. One of my Oracles would reside there, and I didn’t want her to have to put up with a dead snake in the same room.

So I’d taken it back to Olympus and stuffed it… somewhere. I didn’t remember where, and I didn’t WANT to remember. Python haunted my thoughts enough without having his skin in my face. 

I’d avoided my palace on Olympus for months after that. I just - I couldn’t sleep, knowing it was still around up there, knowing exactly where it was. I hung around Artemis a lot, wanting to do SOMETHING to keep my mind off of it.

Of course she figured out what I was doing. She’s my twin. As much as we drive each other crazy, we UNDERSTAND each other.

After another day of spending just a little too long hanging around her camp, she confronted me.

“Why are you avoiding Olympus?”

“Avoiding? I’m not avoiding anywhere. I just wanted to spend more time with these lovely ladies.”

Artemis turned her piercing eyes on me, her face set in her patented _I-don’t-have-time-for-screwing-around_ expression.

Well, so much for that denial.

I sighed. “Look, I- I just don’t want to think about some stuff, okay? It’s easier when I’m down here, to just - forget for awhile.”

Her face softened. “It’s Python, isn’t it?”

“…No.”

She stared at me some more.

“Okay, fine, it is! I keep on thinking about the fight. I mean, I won super easily and quickly, there were no problems, it was easy. But I can’t stop thinking about it. No idea why.”

I could tell she didn’t believe me for a second, but she didn’t push. Well, not on how ‘easy’ it was, at least.There was no way she’d just leave it at that, though.

“Is there anything I can do to help? You should feel comfortable in your own palace.”

I bit my lip. On the one hand, I really didn’t want her to know that I was THIS affected just by having Python’s skin around. On the other hand, she was right, and I did want to be able to enjoy Olympus again. And as much as we teased each other, as much as we could argue, she wouldn’t make fun of me for this.

“…Python’s skin. Could you take it somewhere else? Somewhere safe, but where I won’t run across it?”

It was basically an admission of how much Python had affected me, something I didn’t even want to admit to myself. But if that knowledge was safe with anyone, it was with Artemis (and Leto of course. She would understand, but I didn’t want to bring back her own memories of Python.)

“Ok. Just tell me where it is. It’ll be gone and safely hidden by the end of the day.”

So I told her the location. Sure enough, by the end of the day, the snakeskin was gone.

I’d collapsed right then and there. It was GONE. I didn’t need to think about it anymore. Artemis had taken care of it. It wasn’t here.

So when the prophecy had called for Python’s skin, I’d immediately sought out my sister’s Hunters. I couldn’t see my sister, but it was entirely possible that they would know where it was. 

Then I remembered who her current lieutenant was.

Thalia Grace.

My blood turned to ice.

I’d talked to her a few months ago, at Camp Jupiter. I’d needed to tell her that her brother was dead.

She already knew, of course. My sister may not be able to visit in person right now, but she could get away with visiting her lieutenant in a dream.

It was worth the risk anyway. Thalia needed to know.

So by the time I’d told her, she already knew. 

She hadn’t wanted to believe it. She’d tried to tell herself it was just a dream, but she knew better. And one look at my face had confirmed it.

Telling her what happened… that Jason KNEW he was going to die, that he TOLD me it would happen, and I STILL let him come… I hadn’t thought I could feel any worse about Jason’s death than I already did. I should’ve known better.

She only punched me once, surprisingly enough. 

We’d avoided each other after that. I needed to give her space to process, and she REALLY didn’t want to see me. When we had interacted, she’d been coolly stand-offish, saying the bare minimum necessary, and then leaving the area.

So when I’d told her that we needed to retrieve Python’s skin, neither of us were too happy about it. Still, the way her eyes had hardened when I’d mentioned it, and the way her snippiness had increased… there was something more going on. 

Something I should know.

I groaned. Curse my faulty mortal memory! Or at least, I’d LIKE to curse it. But a nagging sensation in the back of my head whispered  _Don’t think about it. Don’t remember._

Last time I’d felt anything like this, I’d been repressing my memory of Agametheus’s death, of refusing to listen to my son’s pleas. Whatever memory I’d repressed this time was much, MUCH worse.

We needed to retrieve the skin as soon as possible, and with the way travel had become difficult (which I was pretty worried about. Is something wrong with Hermes?)  we needed to use a more unconventional mode of transport. 

Unfortunately, Leo and Festus weren’t at Camp Half-Blood when we received the prophecy.

Fortunately, Nico Di Angelo was.

It seemed that Nico’s range and stamina had increased quite a bit from the last time I’d seen him. He’d volunteered to take Meg, Thalia, and I to our destination, some kind of ruins in Virginia. 

At that point Will had cut in, “Not without me.”

Nico had opened his mouth, looking like he might try to protest, but Will just said, “Nope. Nico, I love you, but you have NO self-preservation instincts, and the last time you transported people across the country, you nearly faded into shadow. Coach Hedge helped keep you alive last time. This time, I’M going to be your healer.”

And with that Nico’s jaw clicked shut and he nodded.

I should have felt elated. I was getting to spend more time with one of my children and my future son-in-law! And I WAS happy about that. 

Yet a dark coil of dread filled my stomach. Whatever was waiting for us at the ruins, I didn’t want Will to see it. Will was right though, Nico needed him, and we needed Nico. I couldn’t protest. Whatever was causing this guilt and dread, Will would find out about it too. 

Three shadow-jumps and two days later, we arrived at our destination. Will had insisted on taking a little more time than was strictly necessary to rest, so that Nico would still have some energy left over in case we needed to leave in a hurry. 

We manifested in the middle of a traffic circle. Of course, no mortals noticed us. The Mist was able to hide a gigantic metal dragon, hiding five teenagers emerging from shadows was a cakewalk by comparison.

Thalia looked over at a nearby statue of Robert E. Lee. I heard her mutter, “We’re close.” I didn’t know whether she was talking to herself or us.

She strode forwards, very purposely not looking at me, nor anyone else for that matter. I looked closely at her face as we walked. She’d been stony-faced through the whole journey here, which I’d assumed was her way of keeping her composure after finding out about Jason’s death. After finding out that she’d be traveling with me. With the person responsible for sending Jason on the quest he’d died trying to complete.

But now. Now her expression had cracked. Her eyes screwed up slightly, and her eyes appeared wetter than normal. She had a personal history with wherever we were about to go - wherever Python’s skin was. Judging by her expression, it wasn’t a happy one.

The dread and guilt doubled, pressing down on me. I stumbled.

“Apollo!” Meg cried.

“I’m- I’m okay,” I choked out.

That was a lie. But what could she do? I didn’t know what was wrong, and whatever it was, I doubted she could help me. My sins were my own. I’d faced myself, faced my ignorance, my apathy, my casual cruelty on many past occasions.

I’d seen the way I’d threatened to murder innocent demigods and satyrs, just because I was panicking. Heck, I’d threatened to murder Grover just because he scratched my lyre on a quest I FORCED on him and Percy!

That fear in Leo’s eyes as he frantically tried to redirect my panic away from murder-mode… the stammer in Grover’s voice as he wilted under my gaze… I never wanted to see or hear them again. I wanted to be loved, not feared. At least I’d made some progress towards that, at the satyr school.

I smiled briefly. Those three young satyrs, Fern, Aster, and Wren, had started off being terrified of me. Yet I’d gotten them to open up, to see that I wouldn’t hurt them. I’d changed their perception of me, even now, as a mortal. I’d made a change. I hadn’t needed to regain my throne first to make a difference. 

For some changes, I WOULD need to regain my throne first. The other gods weren’t allowed to talk to me currently, and I NEEDED to talk to them. We needed to change our attitudes towards mortals - towards demigods - towards our FAMILY. There was only so much I could do on my own.

The flashback of Otis and Ephialtes had shown me how uncaring the other gods could be towards the demigods’ plight, even when we needed their help and their survival. Bacchus had refused to help the demigods until they’d ‘proven’ themselves. Percy had even given him a MASSIVE tribute, and yet he STILL only deigned to help after Percy and Jason had nearly died ‘entertaining’ him. And he had the nerve to claim credit for the defeat of the Giant twins afterwards! Bile rose in my throat as I remembered Bacchus’s words, “ _Being a god has its privileges._ ” Yes, and those privileges apparently included being a terrible person who’d just WATCH while two brave young teenagers desperately fought against enemies they couldn’t possibly defeat without help. Their lives didn’t matter. They were  _disposable_.

Meg shot a concerned look at me. Abruptly, I noticed that I was shaking, my fist clenched so hard my knuckles had turned white. 

I shot her a small smile and tried to relax. I didn’t want to have to explain my thoughts.

I turned my thoughts back towards my previous flashbacks, this time being more careful not to betray my feelings in my body language.

Things had to change. I couldn’t, I WOULDN’T let my godly brethren continue as they had. If I had to argue with them every day, I would. If I had to intervene myself to keep the demigods, OUR CHILDREN, safe, I would. Maybe I couldn’t fix everything, but I’d damn well TRY.

I didn’t really think I’d have to do it all alone, though. During the flashback I’d experienced with Percy, Annabeth, and Meg of Kronos’s defeat, I’d seen Percy’s conversation with Hermes.

Hermes had understood the worth of mortals. He’d cared about Luke SO MUCH, even knowing his future. But fate couldn’t be denied…

I gasped. Thankfully, my friends’ attention were on our surroundings, not on myself. 

Fate couldn’t be denied. Terrible things happened to those who tried. When I’d thought about that during the conversation with Percy and Hermes, a mental block had slammed down. That same mental block reappeared this time, but something told me it had something to do with our destination, with the ruins and the snakeskin that were waiting for us there.

I couldn’t do anything about that now. The mental block wasn’t budging. I’d just have to wait until we got to the ruins to see why it had triggered.

I cast my mind back to Hermes. He’d looked at Percy with something akin to wonder when Percy had stated that the gods could change. He’d WANTED to change, he just hadn’t truly believed he could. We’d all fooled ourselves for so long, thinking we were unchanging, unable to grow. Yet he had. I had. Heck, even a Titan and a Giant had! Being immortal didn’t stop us from changing for the better. I would make sure we continued to change for the better, to make things better for those we always should have protected.

Those flashbacks had been painful, but they’d shown me things I needed to know. However painful the reason for this block, I needed to know.

I snuck a look at my companions. I wasn’t alone. I knew that now. I had friends. I could do this.

I steeled myself as we walked forwards.

* * *

We arrived at the ruins a few minutes later.

Well, ‘ruins’ was being a bit generous. There wasn’t a wall still standing. I knelt down and felt the ash at my feet.

“Greek Fire,” I murmured. 

Thalia nodded, her face tight. “Luke and I helped burn this place to the ground.”

I looked up at her, startled. I’d figured that she’d been here before, but with Luke? “What happened?”

She looked over at me with wide eyes. “Wait, you don’t know?”

I shook my head. “My mortal memory is highly flawed. I can’t access most of my godly memories. Plus…” I swallowed hard. “I- I feel like I should know what happened here. Like I DO know, but I’ve blocked it out. Something so terrible that even as a god, I just wanted to forget about it.”

Thalia stared at me with an unreadable expression on her face. Before she could decide what to do with that information, I heard Meg cry out.

I rushed over to her. Thankfully, she appeared unhurt. “What’s wrong?” I asked, gripping my combat ukulele tightly. 

She knelt down and brushed away some ashes to reveal two human skulls. 

My breath caught. I wasn’t freaked out by human remains. I’d seen many, MANY dead humans over my four thousand years of existence. But I could still be freaked out by what they meant.

Gently I knelt down and picked up one of the skulls. Judging by its size and shape, it had belonged to a child no older than eight. The other skull was even smaller. The child it belonged to had still had all their baby teeth. They were probably barely out of toddlerhood.

I stumbled around the area - the impromptu graveyard. I kicked up skull after skull, almost all of them children. They stared up at me accusingly, yet I couldn’t remember what they were accusing me of. I’d had no parts in the deaths of these children - right?

Part of me knew I had. I had something to do with their deaths. I just didn’t remember how.

I breathed harder and harder, choking on the newly disturbed ash.

“Dad!”

Will  rushed over, Nico by his side. He led me away from the ruins, towards the woods. 

Normally woods filled me with shame and guilt with how they reminded me of Daphne. Right now, they were a relief. There weren’t any child skulls staring back at me here, and no ash to choke on.

I collected myself as best I could. “I’m- I’m okay. I’ll be fine. We need to find Python’s skin.”

Will nodded, but looked worried. “Do you know what happened here? You freaked out more than I thought you would when you found those skulls.”

“I- no. No, I don’t. But- I think I’m responsible for it. And that I’ll have to face my memories of it.”

Will frowned, but nodded. “Just remember that we’re here. We’re not gonna leave you.”

Tears filled my eyes and my throat tightened. What had I ever done to deserve such a wonderful son? “I know.”

We walked back to the ruins, being careful not to kick up too much ash. I steadfastly tried to ignore the occasional human bone I kicked up. I could do nothing for them now and could learn no lessons from their deaths until I knew what had happened. For now, I needed to concentrate on finding Python’s skin.

We split up and searched the ruins for nearly an hour. I uncovered bone after bone, skull after skull. With each discovery my conscience weighed on me more and more, until I felt like I was going to break.  _Your fault, your fault_  I heard from the other side of the mental block.  _They’re dead because of you_. I couldn’t remember why, but I knew it was true.

Near the end of that hour, Thalia yelled “FOUND IT!”

Will, Meg, and I rushed over. Belatedly I realized that Nico wasn’t there. Looking around, I saw him deep in conversation with some spirit. He didn’t appear to have heard Thalia.

 At Thalia’s feet, newly unearthed from under the ash, was a massive length of snake skin. And on top of that snake skin was a human skeleton.

Unlock most of the other skeletons we’d found, this one appeared to belong to an adult - an elderly one, at that. Thalia stared at the skeleton, a hard look in her eyes.

“Hal…” she murmured.

My mind exploded.

* * *

The world came into being around us. I groaned. The mental block I’d built up was crumbling. 

Hal.

I knew him.

He was one of my sons.

And something terrible had happened to him.

_I’d_ happened to him.

I didn’t know how or why yet, but I was certain I was responsible.

I pushed that thought away. Find out what was going on first, wallow in guilt later, once I knew for sure what I was guilty OF.

I rubbed my eyes and looked around. 

Will and Thalia had tensed up, weapons drawn, waiting for an attack.

Meg just peered around, vaguely interested, but not alarmed.

Ah. Of course.

“Don’t worry,” I told Will and Thalia. “This is a flashback. They happen around me sometimes. Not sure why. None of this is really happening, we’re just revisiting someone’s memories of the past. Once it’s done, we’ll be back where we were. Meg and I have been through many if these, along with Percy and Annabeth.”

The three of them relaxed slightly, though they still seemed on-guard.

I looked around at our surroundings. We seemed to be in some kind of ballroom, that weirdly enough seemed to also be the entranceway to outside. Weird design, but okay. I’d seen weirder.

I heard a quiet _click_. The deadbolt turned. The door swung over, revealing two young demigods.

Two  _familiar_  young demigods.

“Thalia and Luke?” I asked. 

They were way younger than I was used to. Thalia looked about twelve. Since she was normally (biologically) fifteen, that wasn’t a HUGE difference though.

Luke, on the other hand, looked to be about 14, which was a LOT younger than he was last time I saw him, in the flashback where he’d died. He’d been 23 at that point, a man. Seeing him and Thalia now… they were so young. So, so young.

My heart clenched. This wasn’t right. They should both be at camp, not wandering around, not knowing where their next meals would come from, constantly needing to watch for monsters.

How could we gods have EVER thought this was okay, letting CHILDREN fend for themselves? Even if they weren’t my own children, I couldn’t imagine leaving them like that. Not now. Not when I knew what it was like to be afraid of a monster killing you anytime you rested.

I was fortunate compared to those homeless demigods. I had never been alone. I always had allies, and ways of acquiring food. They had no such guarantee.

“That is so cool,” past!Thalia murmured.

The two young demigods marched in, Thalia taking the lead.

I looked over at the present Thalia. She stood stock-still, staring at Luke.

Ah, of course. I’d known they used to be close, and seeing him again now, before he died, before he started helping Kronos… I could only imagine how she was feeling. Perhaps I’d talk to her about it later, if we were on speaking terms at that point. 

I turned my attention back to the past. Luke and Thalia seemed to be inspecting the room, though Luke moreso than Thalia. I frowned, taking a closer look myself.

The room looked pretty disheveled, the floor streaked with mud and some dried red-brown stuff - 

Oh. That was blood. Well that’s not good.

I looked over at the furniture. In one corner stood a destroyed sofa, looking like something had torn it apart. Something strong with sharp teeth. Elsewhere in the room lay several smashed chairs. 

The stairs were the worst. Trash was strewn at the base - along with human bones.

“Thalia,” I asked, my voice even. “please tell me you two turned around and left, and this was just a weird, but ultimately uneventful footnote on your travels together.”

Thalia shot me a glare. I wasn’t sure why. “Well, we TRIED to leave…”

* _sshnk_ *

Past Thalia now held a spear. Seems she had noticed the bones too. Good. 

Luke on the other hand…

“Thalia, why is Luke wielding a normal golf club, and not an ACTUAL WEAPON?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm. I didn’t think I succeeded. 

“Oh, he had a Celestial Bronze sword. It got melted into acid awhile before this. That golf club was all Luke had for a while,” she said off-handedly.

Great. Maybe the monster was some sort of a dog, and he could hit a ball really, REALLY far away while he and Thalia GOT OUT OF THERE.

Breathe, Apollo. Breathe. They survived this. You know they did. If they survived this, then you can survive WATCHING them go through this.

Luke spoke. “Maybe this isn’t such a good-”

The door slammed shut behind them.

Well that wasn’t good.

Luke tugged at the handle, but it wouldn’t open. He put his hand on the lock, trying to will it open, I imagined. Hermes’s kids could do that sometimes. Came with being children of the God of Thieves. It still didn’t budge.

“Some kind of magic,” Luke said. “We’re trapped.”

Past Thalia ran to a window, tugging at the drape. I supposed she was thinking of smashing a window to get out. Good thought, but I doubted that whoever came up with this trap would have left so obvious an escape method.

The fabric wrapped around Thalia’s hands. 

“Luke!” she screamed.

I hated being right.

The curtains transformed, changing from fabric into a thick black ooze. It enveloped Thalia’s arms and crept down her spear.

Luke charged, whacking at them with his golf club. To my surprise that actually worked. The curtains temporarily changed back to fabric, and Luke was able to pull Thalia out of its grip.

The curtains quickly recovered, turning back to ooze and trying to reach out to Thalia. Luckily the ooze didn’t seem to be able to leave the curtain rods, and it soon quieted down, giving up on reach its prey.

Thalia shivered in Luke’s arms. Her arms and hands steamed and blistered.

I wanted to rush over and help her. Sing healing incantations, give her ambrosia, SOMETHING. 

But I couldn’t. This had already happened. I could do nothing for her now.

Luke, however, COULD. “Hold on!” he shouted, laying her on the ground. “Hold on, Thalia. I got it.”

He fumbled through his backpack, finally pulling out a bottle of nectar. He poured it over Thalia’s hands. The blisters faded.

I breathed a sigh of relief. At least Thalia was okay now.

“You’re going to be fine,” Luke said gently. “Just rest.”

“We- we can’t,” Thalia said shakily as she stood. “If all the windows are like that, and the door is locked-”

“We’ll find another way out,” Luke said.

Luke looked around, trying to find an exit that WOULDN’T try to dissolve them, I assumed.

His eyes locked on some small red lights. Which were paired together. And moving closer. A growl emanated from them.

Thalia made a strangled sound. “Um, Luke…”

She pointed down the second hallway. A second pair of eyes looked back at them. 

From both hallways came a strange sound, * _clack-clack-clack_ *.

“The stairs are looking pretty good,” Luke said.

From somewhere above them, up the stairs, a man’s voice called, ”Yes, this way.”

A sharp pain tore through my head. “Nngh,” I groaned.

“Apollo!” Meg and Will cried out.

“I’m okay,” I tried to assure them. “Just a headache.”

Meg nodded, but looked troubled. Will didn’t seem to buy it either, but neither of them said anything. I noticed that they both stayed close to me, though.

“Who are you?” Luke called up.

“Hurry,” the man called again. I felt like I should recognize the voice.

“Hurry,” echoed from the right hallway, from the creature with the red eyes. It was the same voice.

A creature with a human voice… The same voice coming from two different directions… 

I moaned as my headache pulsed again. 

“Hurry,” the creature on the left called.

Luke grabbed Thalia’s hand, bolting up the stairs with her.

“Luke-”

“Come on!”

“If it’s another trap-”

“No choice!”

They ran like Tartarus himself was after them. They plunged down the hallway, nearly tripping over piles of human bones.

“This way!” the man’s voice called. “Last door on the left. Hurry!”

The creatures echoed the man’s words. “Left! Hurry!”

“We have to help him,” Thalia said determinedly.

“Yeah,” Luke agreed.

They ran down the corridor, towards the last door on the left. Light spilled out from the crack under the closed door.

The door opened as they reached it. The two frantic demigods tripped through the doorway, the door slamming shut behind them.

“Hello,” said the man’s voice, much closer now. “I’m very sorry.”

In front of them stood an old man with gray, spiky hair. He looked resigned and very, very tired.  But his clothes were what really caught my attention.

Snakeskin boots. A mottled green-and-brown snakeskin suit.

He was wearing Python’s skin. Where had he gotten Python’s skin?

_Because I forced it on him._

The answer came back naturally, as I’d known it all along. I suppose I had, and had simply forgotten it.

But why would I force the snakeskin on him? And why did it feel like a hole had opened up in my stomach?                                                                                 

Breathing hard, I forced myself to concentrate. I was SO close to remembering. I could feel it.

_But do I want to?_

I clenched my teeth. Whether I WANTED to didn’t matter. I NEEDED to. 

 Past Thalia spoke. “Um, Luke…”

She pointed to her left.

The left portion of the room was closed off with iron bars, like a prison cell. Inside stood one of the monsters that had just chased Thalia and Luke. It looked like a weird mixture of creatures, with a lion’s body, horses’ hooves ( _I suppose that explains the clacking sound,_  I thought distantly) and a head that looked like some amalgam of a horse and a wolf head.

It opened its mouth, revealing two horseshoe-shaped plates of bones instead of teeth. When it snapped its mouth shut, it produced the *clack-clack-clack* sound.

Of course the sound was produced by the more horrifying option. Naturally.

Thalia and Luke stood up, facing the old man.

“Who are you?” Luke demanded. “What’s that thing in the cage?”

The old man grimaced, his expression miserable. He looked like he was about to cry. He opened his mouth, but when he spoke, the voice didn’t come from him, but from the monster in the cage. 

“I am Halcyon Green. I’m terribly sorry, but  _you_  are in the cage. You’ve been lured here to die.”

The block in my mind dissipated.

My legs buckled, long-repressed memories whirling through my mind. Meg and Will caught me, having made sure to stay close after the last time I nearly fell.

Halcyon Green.

My son.

I’d done something awful to my son.

I hadn’t wanted to, but I had.

I still couldn’t quite sort out what had happened, why I’d repressed my memories of Hal. The block may have dissolved, but I still needed to sort through the memories it was hiding.

Meg and Will gently lowered me to the ground, sitting me down. 

“Apollo. Breathe. We’re here. We’re not leaving. Everything’s okay,” Will said soothingly.

I appreciated his reassurance, even though he had no idea what was actually wrong. 

The flashback didn’t pause just because I was struggling to remain upright, unfortunately. How inconsiderate!

“Y-you’d better explain,” Luke stammered. “Why - how - what…?”

“I understand your confusion,” said the monster sympathetically, speaking for Hal. “The creature you see her is a leucrota. It has a talent for imitating human voices. That is how it lures its prey.”

Luke looked from Hal to the leucrota and back again. “But the voice is yours? I mean, the dude in the snakeskin suit? I’m hearing what  _he_  wants to say?”

“That is correct,” the leucrota sighed. “I am, as you say, the dude in the snakeskin suit. Such is my curse. My name is Halcyon Green, son of Apollo.”

“WHAT?!”

I winced from Meg’s and Will’s yells. Thalia just silently glared at me.

They quieted down in time to hear past Thalia’s own exclamation of surprise, “You’re a demigod? But you’re so - “

“Old?” the leucrota asked. Hal looked over his hands, seemingly contemplating how old and weathered they were. “Yes, I am.”

I understood Thalia’s confusion. It was very, very rare for Greek demigods to achieve senior status. Something else that I hoped to change.

“How long have you been here?” Luke asked.

_A long, long time_ , my memory whispered.  _Decades._

Hal shrugged listlessly, his face conveying his misery and despair. The utter hopelessness… he’d given up on his situation improving a long, long time ago. The leucrota supplied Hal’s voice. “I have lost count. Decades? Because my father is the god of oracles, I was born with the curse of seeing the future. Apollo warned me to keep quiet. He told me I should never share what I saw because it would anger the gods. But many years go… I simply had to speak. I met a young girl who was destined to die in an accident. I saved her life by telling her the future.”

My blood ran cold. Distantly I heard voices calling me, but I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. 

Precognition. The ability to see the future. An extremely valuable and important ability. We were currently on a quest to try and restore the Oracles, after all. But it was the ability I most hated to pass on to my offspring. Seers could easily run afoul of the Fates - and run afoul of Zeus by consequence.

I remembered the horror I felt when I first visited Hal when he was a child. I’d desperately warned him to keep silent, whatever happened. Whatever the contest. That he would be punished severely if he dared to utter a word. He’d agreed. He hadn’t said a word. When he managed to reach adulthood (a rare feat for a Greek demigod) without triggering Zeus’s wrath, I had let myself be deluded into thinking that things would be fine. 

It had only been a delusion. Before Hal was even born, I’d seen that the Aegis would need to be sealed in a trapped safe and left in his family’s house. I hadn’t seen why, simply that it was necessary. I’d convinced myself not to worry about WHY it was like that. After Hal had spoken - after he’d saved that little girl - it became abundantly, horribly clear.

I forced myself to concentrate on the rest of the exchange. I could fall to pieces afterwards.

“I don’t get it…” Luke looked Hal in the eyes, very pointedly NOT looking at the leucrota. “You did something good. Why would that anger the gods?”

I almost laughed. Good intentions only mattered for so much when one stepped on a god’s domain. 

“They don’t like mortals meddling with fate,” the leucrota replied. “My father cursed me. He forced me to wear these clothes, the skin of Python, who once guarded the Oracle of Delphi, as a reminder that I was _not_  an oracle. He took away my voice and locked me in this mansion, my boyhood home. Then the gods set the leucrotae to guard me. Normally, leucrotae only mimic human speech, but these are linked to my thoughts. They speak for me. They keep me alive as bait, to lure other demigods. It was Apollo’s way of reminding me, forever, that my voice would only lead others to their doom.”

I looked around dazedly. Meg and Will had stopped calling my name, instead staring at me in horror. Thalia determinedly did NOT look at me, fixing her gaze on Hal and Luke instead. I was fine with her ignoring my existence. Right now  _I_  wanted to ignore my existence. 

I would have to explain later, tell my side of the story, and hope that they could forgive me for what I did. For what I had to do.

But for now, this was Hal’s show. He’d been silenced enough. My son would get to say his piece.

Luke looked furious at Hal’s words. “You should fight back. You didn’t deserve this. Break out. Kill the monsters. We’ll help you.”

I gave a bitter smile.  _Not deserving_  something didn’t matter much. Otherwise Jason would still be alive.

“He’s right,” past Thalia cut in. “That’s Luke, by the way. I’m Thalia. We’ve fought plenty of monsters. There has to be something we can do, Halcyon.”

Normally I’d say it was hopeless. This was meant to be a trap for demigods, there were measures in place to prevent them from simply being able to fight their way out, otherwise the trap would have been destroyed years ago. Yet Thalia and Luke  _had_  survived this. I was not about to underestimate them.

“Call me Hal.” He shook his head, “But you don’t understand. You’re not the first to come here. I’m afraid all the demigods feel there’s hope when they arrive. Sometimes I try to help them. It never works. The windows are guarded by deadly drapes-”

“I noticed,” past Thalia muttered.

“-and the door is heavily enchanted. It will let you in, but not out.”

“We’ll see about that,” Luke muttered determinedly. He pressed his hand against the door behind him, willing it to open, like he did with the front door downstairs. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t work.

“I told you,” the leucrota speaking for Hal said bitterly, “None of us can leave. Fighting the monsters is hopeless. They can’t be hurt by any metal known to man or god.”

Hal opened his jacket, revealing a dagger on his belt.

A very  _familiar_  dagger.

I’d seen it not too long ago, in a different flashback, that one also involving Luke.

“Is- is that…?” I asked hesitantly.

“Yep,” the present Thalia replied.

Oh, the strange and twisted path the Fates had taken.

Will and Meg looked at Thalia and I curiously, but we didn’t elaborate. I had a feeling that the flashback would explain anyway. They usually did.

Hal stabbed the knife at the leucrota. It bounced off the monster’s snout.

“You see?” the monster said as Hal backed away from it.

“So you just give up?” Thalia demanded. “You help the monsters lure us in and wait for them to kill us?”

Hal sheathed the dagger, gently placing it back in its holster. “I’m so sorry, my dear, but I have little choice. I’m trapped here, too. If I don’t cooperate, the monsters let me starve. The monsters could have killed you the moment you entered the house, but they use me to lure you upstairs. They allow me your company for a while. It eases my loneliness. And then… well, the monsters like to eat at sundown. Today, that will be at 7:03.”

I glanced at the nearby clock. It read 10:34 am. A little over eight hours before Luke and Thalia were dinner.

Hal continued. “After you are gone, I- I subsist on whatever rations you carried.”

He looked hungrily at Luke’s backpack. I felt sick.

“You’re as bad as the monsters,” Luke said.

I flinched. Hal might be as bad as the monsters, but what did that make us gods, who had made this happen? 

“You’re right to hate me,” the leucrota spoke, self-loathing and resignation coating its words. “But I can’t save you. At sunset, those bars will rise. The monsters will drag you away and kill you. There is no escape.”

Two more leucrotae entered the caged off room, as if underscoring Hal’s words. One of them chomped on some long-dead demigod’s Celestial Bronze breastplate, which seemed like an entirely unnecessary illustration of how screwed Thalia and Luke were.

“As you see,” one of the new leucrotae said, “the monsters are remarkably strong.”

“Send them away,” Thalia asked pleadingly. She was trying to put on a brave face, but I could see how scared she was. I didn’t blame her. If I’d been in her situation, my knees would have been quaking so hard I’d have had trouble remaining upright. “Hal, can you make them leave?”

Hal frowned. One of the leucrotae spoke, “If I do that, we won’t be able to talk.”

The second leucrotae continued his statement, “Besides, any escape strategy you can think of, someone else has already tried.”

The third monster ended the statement, “There is no point in private talks.”

Okay, the leucrotae HAD to be doing this on purpose, trying to reinforce how outmatched the demigods were.

Thalia paced, thinking. I admired her ability to concentrate on anything besides ‘Oh my god, we’re gonna die.’

She turned to Hal, “Do they know what we’re saying? I mean, do they just speak, or do they understand the words?”

The first leucrotae whined, then mimicked Thalia’s voice, “Do they understand the words?”

The second one supplied Hal’s voice, “The creatures are intelligent, the way dogs are intelligent. They comprehend emotions and a few simple phrases. They can lure their prey by crying things like ‘Help!’. But I’m not sure how much human speech they really understand. It doesn’t matter. You can’t fool them.”

“Send them away,” Luke said. “You have a computer. Type what you want to say. If we’re going to die at sunset, I don’t want those things staring at me all day.

Hal turned at the creatures and stared at them silently. They snarled and stalked out of the room.

“Luke,” past Thalia asked anxiously, “do you have a plan?”

“Not yet. But we’d better come up with one by sunset,” he replied grimly.

* * *

Luke and Thalia paced, trying to come up with some solution. After a couple minutes of waiting, the present Thalia sighed. “Nothing’s going to happen for at least an hour. Maybe more. It certainly FELT like an eternity,” she grumbled. 

This was the perfect opportunity for me to come clean and explain what I’d remembered about Hal.

I half-wished a leucrota would burst in.

Sadly, no such distraction was forthcoming. 

I shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably, not meeting Will’s or Meg’s eyes as they burned holes in me.

“Why?” Will asked softly. I flinched. “Why did you punish Hal so severely just for saving a girl? A-and why…” he struggled to find the words, his face screwing up as he attempted to keep his composure. His voice came out hoarse and rough, “Why did you give him a punishment that would kill HUNDREDS of innocent people. Kill hundreds of KIDS. I- I-” Will’s voice cracked as tears streamed down his face. “I looked around the ruins for an HOUR, Apollo! Do you know how many children’s skulls I found?! How many never got a CHANCE, because they were caught in this messed-up trap?! Just- just- WHY?!”

Looking at the anger and betrayal in my son’s face, at his clenched fists, I almost lost my voice. Nothing I could say could fix this. 

But I could explain it. I owed that much.

“Because Zeus threatened to do something worse. ”

An audible silence fell.

Thalia, Meg, and Will stared at me.

I fought the urge to stare at my shoes and shrink into a tiny ball. I needed to keep myself together. To give them answers.

I took a deep, shuddering breath, collecting myself. “As soon as Hal was born, I knew he was a seer. I also knew that something terrible would happen to him if he ever tried to use his powers. Zeus told me to kill him. That he couldn’t be allowed to live, to interfere with the Fates. I begged for his life. I assured him that Hal would never tell anyone the things he saw. It worked. And as soon as Hal was old enough to understand what I was telling him, I visited and warned him to never reveal his visions.”

“But he DID tell someone. He had to save that girl,” Thalia cut in, an unreadable expression on her face.

“Yeah. And honestly? I can’t blame him. If I’d been in his circumstances, I would’ve done the same thing.”

“But you didn’t have a choice. You HAD to punish him,” Will said.

As I opened my mouth to explain farther, the world blurred.

A new memory?

The scene resolved. We were on Mount Olympus, in the throne room. Only one throne was occupied; my father’s.

But that didn’t mean he was the only one in the room.

My godly self stood, looking up at my father, fear and worry painted on my face.

Zeus glared at him- at me- stonily.

At last he spoke.

“Hal has meddled with the Fates’ design, as I knew he would. He broke his promise.”

“Father, please-”

Zeus steam-rollered on, disinterested in what I had to say. “He must be punished.”

He leaned forwards slightly. I felt a bead of sweat trickle down my neck. I knew what was coming next. 

Zeus rumbled, “YOU must punish him.”

A beat passed. Then another.

“Wha-?” my godly self asked, looking confused and frightened. 

I remembered this now. Zeus had known that I didn’t want to hurt Hal - to hurt my son - so the fact that he was putting me in charge of Hal’s punishment, when he KNEW I’d try to lighten his load as much as possible… well, I knew as soon as he said it that it couldn’t be that simple.

I’d been right.

Zeus leaned slightly forwards, hand teasingly close to his Master Bolt. “Punish him fittingly… or I’ll intervene.”

The world blurred again. This time when it stopped, we were in a forest. My godly self, stood, talking to a preteen girl with long auburn hair and cold silver eyes.

_Sister._

My eyes prickled.

I’d seen her in two flashbacks so far, one less than a month ago, but it still felt like a punch in the gut every time she appeared. I desperately hoped I’d get to see her in person soon. To Hades with appearances, I wanted to collapse in her arms and cry and just… BE with her. I hadn’t gone this long without seeing her in millennia. 

“I need Python’s skin.”

Artemis looked back at my godly self, frowning. “Apollo, what’s wrong?”

I smiled slightly. Artemis could read me like a book.

“One of my children broke a promise, told the future when he wasn-’t supposed. Zeus’s on the warpath. He… he said that I had to decide a fitting punishment for him, or he’d  _intervene_. I’m hoping that dressing him in Python’s skin, reminding him that he’s NOT an Oracle, taking away his voice, and confining him to his home will be enough. I… I don’t want to hurt him anymore than I have to. Anymore than I need to.”

Quietly, I told my present companions, “It wasn’t enough for Zeus.”

Artemis looked at me for a long moment. Finally she spoke. “I’ll retrieve it. It’ll only take a few hours. Come back later tonight.”

My godly self nodded and turned to walk away. Before he could leave, Artemis called out, “Oh, and brother? COME FIND ME after this is over, or I WILL track you down and drag you over myself.”

A small smile tugged at my divine self’s lips. “How could I refuse the opportunity to flirt with so many of your lovely Hunters.”

Sis rolled her eyes, “Just come over, you goof. I’m NOT letting you brood by yourself.”

Artemis… sister… she meant so much more to me than I’d ever been able to tell her. Sometimes I couldn’t stand her, but she was always there for me when I needed her.

The world blurred again. At this rate, I might get motion sickness from all the scene changes.

When it cleared, we were back in Hal’s house, in his room.

Bars covered the walls, leucrotae behind them, just like in Thalia’s time. Hal stood facing my past self, garbed in snakeskin. But this Hal was younger. He wasn’t worn down. He hadn’t given up.

My godly self spoke in a monotone, as if reading from a script: “You told that girl her future. You meddled with fate, with the domain of the gods. You shall be punished accordingly. You will wear the skin of Python, to remind you that you are NOT an Oracle. Your voice has been stolen, so that you may never again tell others of what you see. You will never leave this house again. And… a-and…”

Here my past self’s composure cracked. “Y-your voice will be repeated by the leucrotae. It will be used as bait to lure demigods’ to their deaths. To re-remind you that your voice will only ever lead others to destruction. You will be forced to watch them die, knowing it’s your fault. Your curse.. your curse will only be ended when the owner of the treasure in this safe,” here I gestured to a huge locked safe, “successfully claims it.”

Hal looked stunned. He moved his mouth, but no words came out. My godly self turned around, whispering hoarsely, “I’m sorry,” before disappearing.

Thalia broke the silence. “Zeus. HE was the reason for all those deaths. He was the one who set up the death trap,” she spat.

She let out a breath. “I’m not surprised. It explains some things I’d been wondering about.”

I looked at her interestedly. “Like what?”

She looked me in the eyes. For the first time in several days, I saw no anger directed at me. “Hal never seemed angry or upset with you, just resigned. Zeus’s goat led me to the mansion, so he knew about it… and knew that the Aegis was here for me to claim. Plus the fact that the Aegis was here in the first place.”

She gave me a small smile. “Also, after getting to know you… this just REALLY didn’t seem like the kind of punishment you’d come up with.”

I teared up slightly. Thalia Grace, thinking well of me? Believing me to be a good enough person to NOT willingly consign hundreds of innocent demigods to a horrible death? (Okay, that was an admittedly low bar, but I’d take it.)

Still…

“I could’ve done more,” I admitted. _Abort, mouth, abort!_  I screamed to myself.  _She only just now started to stand you again, what are you doing?_ My mouth didn’t comply.

“I could’ve tried to guide more demigods away from the area. I could’ve appealed to Artemis and Athena for help in persuading Zeus to change his mind. Maybe I wouldn’t have succeeded. Maybe he would’ve even gotten angry with me. But I could’ve TRIED. Instead I buried my head in the sand. I blocked my memories of this as best I could, ignoring the demigods’ screams for help. I did what I’d been doing for millennia; ignoring those I should have helped to protect. Because it was EASIER. Because it was SAFER.”

I looked Meg, Will, and Thalia each in the eyes in turn, and reiterated a promise I’d already made, but needed to be repeated. “I will fight to ensure that this kind of thing NEVER happens again. That my divine family finally starts to protect demigods. ALL demigods, not just our own children. Even if it means protecting them from other gods. This was WRONG. This… this was EVIL. I can’t go back in time to stop it from happening. But I can try to prevent a repeat.”

Light shone in Thalia’s eyes as she studied me. At last, she gave me a small smile. “Luke would have agreed. The Luke I knew, at least. Before… before everything happened.”

I smiled back at her. 

The world blurred and melted again (seriously, how many times was this going to happen? This had to be a record!)

When it cleared, we were still in Hal’s room, but back with Thalia and Luke. I checked the time. It was 7:01 pm.

Almost time for the leucrotae to eat.

“You haven’t escaped?!” I hissed to Thalia. She looked at me sadly.

“We escaped after this. We had to wait until…”

ZZZAAP-POP

Everyone except Thalia jumped. Past Thalia sat up grinning, holding a glowing jar of Greek fire.

“Somebody order a magic bomb?” she asked cheekily.

“..until that,” the present Thalia finished.

The clock turned over to 7:03 pm.

It was sunset.

Time for the leucrotae to feed.

* * *

Hal held out his hand to Thalia, silently asking for the jar. 

“Thalia,” Luke said. “Give Hal the Greek Fire.”

Past Thalia looked back and forth between Hal and Luke, indecision warring on her face. “But-”

“He has to,” Luke ground out, his voice laced with sorrow. “He’s going to help us escape.”

Oh. So this is how Hal died.

Past Thalia realized Hal’s and Luke’s plan at the same time I did. She blanched. “Luke, no.”

The bars continued to slowly rise, the leucrotae clacking their bone plates impatiently. 

“There’s no time!” Luke shouted. “Come one!”

Hal took the jar from Thalia, setting his face in a brave smile.

I knew that smile. That need to put on a brave face for the sake of others. I’d needed to use it several times in the past few months.

He nodded at Luke. I didn’t know why, but Luke seemed to get his meaning. Luke slipped a book and Hal’s dagger into his pack. Then Luke pulled Thalia into the closet with him.

“In here!” One of the leucrotae shouted, speaking for Hal. “I’ve got them trapped in the bathroom. Come on, you ugly mutts!”

The leucrotae ran to the bathroom.

Thalia and Luke burst out of the closet, sprinting for the open enclosure. They barely made it before the panel closed, Luke wedging it open with his golf club.

“Go, go, go!” he yelled. 

Thalia wriggled through as the golf club began to bend. 

Hal’s voice shouted from the bathroom, “You know what this is, you Tartarus scum dogs? This is your last meal!”

On of the leucrota tore away after Luke and Thalia. Luke punched it in the snout, distracting it long enough for the club to snap, closing the panel. 

As the two young demigods started crawling through a metal duct, I heard a battle cry from Hal.

His last words.

“For Apollo!”

The mansion exploded into a fireball.

* * *

The world blurred forwards. I felt like my mind was blurring too.

_For Apollo_? Why would he shout that? Why, when my existence had caused him nothing but misery?

And… he’d sacrificed himself to save Thalia and Luke. He could’ve let them die, like so many demigods before them. But he chose to die in their place.

“He was like you.”

I looked up, startle, and found myself looking at Meg.

“Huh?” I asked, not sure whether I had heard right.

“He was like you,” she repeated. “Like with you and the arrow. With Jason. He killed himself to give the others a chance to escape.”

I almost laughed. “Yeah, but he KNEW he was going to die. I don’t think I would’ve had the courage to go through with stabbing myself if I’d REALLY believed I’d die.”

“You would have,” she said with certainty. “I know you.”

I didn’t know MYSELF well enough to say that; yet, I couldn’t bring myself to disbelieve her. 

Will cut in. “Hal believed in you. That’s why he shouted that, at the end. He wanted you to see. He wanted you to be proud of him.”

“I am. I am so, so proud of him.” I said hoarsely. 

CLANG

I looked around. The world had cleared while we’d been talking. We appeared to be in some sort of warehouse.

Thalia and Luke crept towards the clanging noise. Ahead of them, a piece of metal quivered.

Something was there.

They inched their way over. Luke lifted the sheet of metal. Thalia readied her spear.

A hammer flew out, narrowly missing taking Luke’s head off.

“Woah!” Luke yelped, and grabbed the little girl who had just tried to give him a concussion. 

I took a look at her. She looked about seven years old, with blonde hair and intelligent grey eyes.

 Annabeth Chase.

She struggled and screamed in Luke’s grip. “No more monsters! Go away!”

“It’s okay!” Luke tried to hold her, attempting to calm her down, but to no avail.

“Thalia!” he shouted. “put your shield away! You’re scaring her!”

She collapsed her shield and dropped her spear.

“Hey, little girl,” she said soothingly. “It’s all right. We’re not going to hurt you. I’m Thalia. This is Luke.”

“Monsters!” Annabeth yelled.

“No,” Luke said, still holding onto Annabeth. She wasn’t fighting quite as hard now. “But we know about monsters. We fight them too.”

He continued to hold her until she settled down and accepted the hug.

“You’re like me?” she asked suspiciously. 

“Yeah,” Luke confirmed. “We’re… well, it’s hard to explain, but we’re monster fighters. Where’s your family?”

Annabeth’s face screwed up in anger. Her chin quivered. “My family hates me. They don’t want me. I ran away.”

She was so, so young. To be on her own…

My blood froze.  If she’d been in the wrong place… if she’d run across the mansion instead of Luke and Thalia…

I shook those thoughts away. I could beat myself up about that more later. I already knew that scenario would be visiting my nightmares.

Thalia knelt in front of Annabeth, putting her eyes level with Annabeth’s. “What’s your name, kiddo?”

“Annabeth.”

“Nice name,” Luke told her, smiling. “I tell you what, Annabeth. You’re pretty fierce. We could use a fighter like you.”

Her eyes widened. “You could?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said earnestly. I smiled at him. If not for everything that happened, Luke would have made a good dad. I could see why he was made Counselor for the Hermes cabin. 

“How’d you like a real monster-slaying weapon?” he asked, pulling out the dagger Hal had given him. “This is Celestial Bronze. Works a lot better than a hammer.”

Annabeth took the dagger and studied it, looking at it in awe.

Luke continued. “Knives are only for the bravest and quickest fighters. They don’t have the reach or power of a sword, but they’re easy to conceal and they can find weak spots in your enemy’s armor. It takes a clever warrior to use a knife. I have a feeling you’re pretty clever.”

“I am clever!” she cried, beaming.

Thalia laughed and ruffled Annabeth’s hair. “We’d better get going, Annabeth. We have a safe house on the James River. We’ll get you some clothes and food.”

Annabeth’s smile wavered for a moment, doubt creeping across her face. “You’re… you’re not going to take me back to my family? Promise?”

My heart broke a little. No child should be this adamant about not returning to the people who are supposed to protect them.

Luke reached out, placing a hand on Annabeth’s shoulder. “You’re part of  _our_ family now. And I promise I’m not going to fail you like our families did us. Deal?”

“Deal!”

Past Thalia smiled at Luke approvingly. “Now, come on. We can’t stay put for long!”

* * *

“He broke his promise.”

I startled, looking up at the present Thalia. She stared at the three of them, a far away look in her eyes.

I knew. Annabeth had told me, after we’d flashbacked to the final battle with Kronos. That broken promise had cursed the dagger, making it the weapon from the Great Prophecy.

Seeing Luke make that promise, seeing the sincerity on his face… It made me doubt my own capacity to keep the promises I’d made. If even Luke could fall, what chance did I have? With my record of promise-breaking?

Yet I had to try. I HAD to.

I didn’t want to fail my family anymore.

I didn’t want anymore children’s deaths on my conscience.

I had to do better.

Maybe I’d fail.

But that was better than not trying in the first place.

The world blurred together for the final time. The four of us blinked awake. We were still standing in the burnt out husk of the mansion.

I looked down at my feet. There lay Hal’s skeleton, surrounded by snakeskin.

I smiled bitterly. He hadn’t deserved his fate. I hoped that he’d made it to Elysium. He deserved it.

“What HAPPENED?” 

I heard a shout. I looked to the side.

There stood a frantic-looking Nico Di Angelo.

Oh. Yeah. We WERE in that flashback for a while.

“It’s… kinda a long story.”

Will started explaining what had transpired to the son of Hades.

Carefully, gently, I removed Python’s skin from my dead son.

We’d give Hal the proper rights soon, once Nico was up to speed. 

For now, I had a promise to make.

 “Never again,” I told Hal. “Never again.”


End file.
